


Into the Sky

by Sculpted_Rage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angels, Angst, Fights, Gen, Heaven, Heaven & Hell, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Other, Probably ooc, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sculpted_Rage/pseuds/Sculpted_Rage
Summary: Lovino Vargas is heir to Heaven’s throne, set on the path to rule the celestial realm from his birth. He has dial it early dedicated his life for this future.However, it all goes awry after a devastating murder before the coronation ceremony. The next thing everyone knows, Lovino has vanished.1 year later.The missing prince has been sighted on Earth.The only trouble is...it appears that Lovino has been taken by demons.Determined to bring his brother home, Feliciano Vargas prepares to face the demons with his grandfather’s sword. Joining with his dear friends and mentors, Feliciano begins the adventure of a lifetime.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia), but it’s not the focus - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Heaven’s Heir

**Author's Note:**

> Um... Hello!
> 
> I never really thought I would be posting my work anymore, but, here we are, hah.
> 
> This story has been with me since the beginning of my high school days. A dear friend used to write it with me—we’d spend hours into the night, usually until one of us fell asleep. There was art, songs, plans...
> 
> This story has survived twice; there was a time where we could not write it, and I feared it would be left unfinished, but we came back to it again. Unfortunately, events later took place that left it incomplete once more.
> 
> I then promised myself that I would re-write and finish this thing on my own if I had to. Perhaps completion will add closure, I’m not sure. But, I’ve started the journey, and I intend to finish it.
> 
> To say the least, this story is very dear to me, and it holds many memories. I do hope you enjoy and forgive any mistakes there might be. Thank you for giving this a click and a try.
> 
> And...dear friend—the true Poland to my Lithuania (wow, corny much?)—if you find this a read it, I know my writing won’t do yours justice, but I hope you find enjoyment in this. I miss you, and I hope you’re okay.
> 
> Enjoy, guys. :)

Nothing breaks his heart more than the last snuff of the blue light. Weak-kneed and heavy-shouldered, Lovino lets himself slide to the floor with a resounding groan, proceeding to fall flat on his back. Underneath him, two tan, feathered wings are splayed out unevenly against the cool stone, one lazily half-curled. The sting of sweat meets his eyes, and he slides a clammy palm over his face, dragging down the dampness. For a short while, Lovino merely stares up at the high ceiling, tracing the designs engraved by the ancients with his eyes. Millennia of history is written in those symbols, and one day Lovino himself will be a part of such art.

That is, if he can ever get that dumb exercise down. 

_ If ever…  _ A dull, quiet voice sighs to him. 

On that thought, a curt huff is exhaled by Lovino, although he doesn’t stir from his place, only continuing to stare up. He can practically see those little blue lights floating above him, tauntingly changing hues as they do so. While formless at first, they slowly draw near each other until an unrecognizable conglomerate is all that is left, but even that is moving, moving until it begins to form more than a dimensionless blob, but rather… Well, Lovino doesn’t quite know what it will form into next—he hasn’t gotten that far.

_ Maybe something extravagant, _ he thinks to himself,  _ like the Tree of Life. _ Another idea comes to mind.  _ Or perhaps it could be something of the complete opposite—like a fish. _

The corners of his mouth tug downward. Imagine such a performance, one passed down for ages, one that gives audiences such admiration, one that is only for the line of rulers, to end up with a flopping, blubbering fish. Surely that would only bring out embarrassment. Such a thing couldn’t represent a future ruler of the Kingdom of Heaven. Lovino would receive more laughs than applause.

As amusing as the thought is, Lovino’s mouth returns to a normal, neutral line. Yet another image enters his mind, a less humorous one. 

A floundering fish… What if that represents him now? An angel out of water, out of element, left stammering and gasping in front of thousands of named citizens. Would he be able to breathe? Could he swim in the air of a ruler, or is he bound by princehood? Would he be kept or tossed back into the sea? 

Lovino knits his brows together in contemplation over the thoughts, stretching arms above his head. The silence outside of his own head doesn’t last much longer, however. Off from the side, a square of light stretches through the room and over Lovino, followed by the sound of the heavy, aged doors sliding across the smooth floor. Then, a question.

“Is a siesta during training a new tradition for the next King of Heaven?” 

Lovino rolls his eyes with a scoffing chuckle. Despite the tired ache in his back, he sits up, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. Lifting his head, his eyes find the familiar, tall figure at the entrance. Built and solid, one could mistake Romulus for a soldier in the Heavenly Army, which would have been true long ago. Even as Lovino’s grandfather, he has never appeared to have even stepped into older age up until the last couple of years; then again, as a Ruler’s time comes to an end, as does their life, which is a rather different process than that of normal angels. A rather depressing one, as Lovino would say.

“I’ll make it one,” Lovino returns, “Siestas for everyone anytime.”

“Then you better not let Feliciano in on that,” jokes Romulus in response, beaming with a renowned, kind smile that lights up his face and seems to make him fifty years younger every time, “In fact, I’d keep that rule a secret from any Italian angels here.” 

As he watches his grandfather enter the room, Lovino’s eyes wander over to where Romulus’s great wings trail behind him slightly along the floor, long feathers of speckled brown draping gracefully. Romulus’s wings are massive, the largest of any angel in Heaven, the wings of a Ruler. Strong and powerful, those wings have carried Romulus through the battlefield on multiple occasions, and yet they still bear their magnificence and beauty to gaze at. Lovino can only imagine when his own wings will change from their average size and pale tanness. At least they aren’t the boring white as the other angels have theirs, although Lovino could never say that out loud.

“Making any progress?” Romulus’s voice breaks Lovino from his thoughts, catching his attention. At the question, though, Lovino’s posture shrinks. 

“No,” he mutters, “I’m still stuck at the blue.”

“Still at the blue, hm?” Romulus taps a finger at his chin, his mouth pulled to the side a small bit. Next he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “We’re falling rather behind, so we ought to get that little hiccup taken care of.” He picks up his head with a reassuring smile. “You’ll get it down.”

“That’s what I keep hearing, but I don’t see it happening,” Lovino huffs again. “I don’t understand why I’m unable to get that part down. I’ve been at it for weeks!”

“It takes time, Lovi, and I know you’ll get there,” Romulus says in a reminder. “This performance isn’t meant to be easy. It isn’t some assignment to practice and memorize; it’s more important than that.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, but frustration hangs in his tone. “I get that. Still… I should have gotten it by now.”

“What’s holding you up?” Romulus asks.

Downcast, Lovino shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t get the lights to stay. They always fade off. That, or that  _ thing _ happens again.”

Eyebrows raised, Romulus nods slowly, a hand lazily cupped under his cheek. “Ah, yes. The thing.”

“It’s weird,” Lovino says shuffling in a small, pacing circle. “It’s like my magic disobeys me. I cast one spell and end up doing another. I feel all out-of-sorts, like… I don’t know—like something’s interfering with me.” He ducks his head. “Maybe I’m just a bad angel.”

“No, no,” Romulus quickly shakes his head, and he steps forward to rest a hand over Lovino’s shoulder, pausing him. “As I said, this isn’t supposed to be easy, Lovino. You aren’t meant to get this down. Yes, you seem to be having a bit of trouble with this blue part, but all of us struggled with at least one part of it all. You’re doing fantastic on what you’ve already learned. And this odd interference you’ve been encountering might be you overworking yourself, don’t you think? Your words, you’ve been at this for weeks. Why not take a break?”

“Because the celebration is less than a month away?” Lovino shoots back. “I have to be prepared.”

“And you will be,” 

“How do you know?” He asks, “I can’t be sure if I can’t get this section down.”

“Lovino, Lovino,” Romulus chuckles, his low voice still lighthearted and calmed. “I have faith in you. I have full certainty that you will get this down; I wouldn’t be handing you the throne if I didn’t. You’re capable of doing this. You are meant to be where you are at.”

“But what if I don’t get the routine perfected?” Lovino asks, stressed. “What if I mess up in front of everyone? What if instead of the Tree of Life those blue dots turn into a fish?”

Romulus pauses only a moment, taking in Lovino’s earnest expression of worry, before bursting into laughter, throwing his head back. The booming of his voice fills the echoing chamber, gleeful and amused. “Oh, Lovino. So what if it turns into a fish? You make it the best fish!” With a grin, Romulus lifts his large hand up from Lovino’s shoulder to pat it. “This is your performance, your message, Lovi. Of course you can go by the steps, but you also must make it your own. This is you showing who you are to your people, and if you show them a fish, you’re going to show them the greatest fish there ever was.”

Lovino smiles weakly. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” Replies Romulus, and looking into those kind, hazel eyes, all Lovino can see is sincerity. Perhaps he really could make this performance his own, and if it is to be a fish, well…

“Now then,” Romulus lets out a huff, straightening with a grin. “I think you’ve earned yourself a well-deserved break.”

“But I’ve got to practice—”

“Was Rome built in a day?” Romulus says, “You’ll be fine, Lovino, you’re allowed to breathe. You should. Take a break and get some fresh air. Hey—why not find your brother?”

“Feliciano?” Lovino groans.

“Do you have any others?” Romulus chuckles, wrapping an arm behind Lovino to give him a light push. “Go on, play a game, be a kid for a little while, because that is taken away too quickly. Soon you’re going to be a Ruler, and then you’ll become old like me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lovino rolls his eyes. “I’ll be all hunched over and feeble, too.”

“Hey, I am not feeble. And do I really have a hunch?”

“I’m not saying anything related to you; I’m just presenting outcomes.”

Romulus gives another hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll see you later, Lovino, my Ruler with the Golden Eyes.”

Lovino scoffs at the name. “See you,” He waves as he makes his way out into the long hallway, strolling out to the front door and outside. On the first step Lovino stops momentarily, taking the opportunity to follow his grandfather’s suggestion and pull in a deep breath. Fresh, sweet air greets his nose in a pleasant scent, traveling down to fill his lungs and spread a newfound energy into his veins. All at once the stuffy environment of the training room and indoors evaporates, replaced with a place to stretch his wings and look around not to the same walls. It’s amazing what stepping outside can do, all in one breath. Romulus was right—but when is he ever wrong?

Heaven’s sky surrounds the air in a brilliant blue, swirling, golden-lines clouds dancing above. It is much like the sky of Earth but surreal and magnificent. It dazzles those who live under it every day, never ceasing to amaze. In the distance all around are planets, some near and some far; on some designs of clouds and winds can be made out, or rings or moons. However, the boundary of Heaven and space doesn’t exist as it does on Earth—there is no atmospheric line or separation, no distinct light and dark. Through purples, clouds, and stars, the two celestial universes connect. 

Lovino continues his way down the path, taking a glance around his surroundings, as if he hasn’t seen it all in months, which is almost true in a way. The green grass and vibrant flowers brush against his ankles, tickling him with their softness. His fingers catch a few petals fluttering through a breeze that sticks under his hair and ruffles his wings. Lovino can’t help but smile. He glances down at the ground to notice his footprints, each one leaving behind a faint, white dim under his bare feet before fading. It is yet another reminder of the magic that lives within his home and his people.

Not far from Lovino’s home is a village. It’s cobblestone streets are filled with the casual business of daily life; stores gather customers, a class of young angels practice their loops on the sky, and angels of all diversities wave and chat with one another in good spirits. A peaceful town, it is, just like Heaven itself. Along the walls of ancient buildings beautiful vines bloom radiant flowers, and outside some of the doors angels have added their personal, magical touch. 

Albeit a tranquil town, a bustling of excitement has been running through its streets as of late. Banners and decorations are presented by the hundreds and strewn about the village, angels are making their plants flower and grow to their finest with magic—preparations for the upcoming celebration set the activities of the next few weeks.

Lovino’s upcoming celebration.

A tingle of nerves brings warmth to Lovino’s palms, and upon glancing down at them, he discovers them to be dimly glowing. Quickly Lovino clasps his hands, pressing his fingers tightly together.

_ Settle down,  _ he urges himself. One breath in, one out. He’s fine, everything will be fine. Sneaking a peak at his hands, Lovino finds the light to be a bit duller, although it isn’t fully gone yet. It would be gone eventually at least—whenever his nerves ended. With a sigh, Lovino carries on, taking the rural path instead of the stony streets. 

It is a lot to think about, the festival. While Lovino has already dwelled on it plenty during his training, it doesn't put to rest his mind.

_ What’s going to happen? _

_ Will I do things right? _

So many questions such as these plague his head. Each one eventually comes down to a scenario of how to make a fool of himself. The more he dwells on them, the more probable they seem. 

_ What if I mess up? _

_ What if my magic doesn’t work? _

_ What if it goes out of control?  _

_ What if— _

Before Lovino’s next thought can hit him, pain does instead, right in the back of his skull with a light  _ thunk. _ Releasing a shriek, Lovino practically takes off flying, whirling around with hands glowing and ready to send out a spell on whoever dared to cause him to release such an holy sound. There’s no one there. Lovino paces forward, eyes searching for his assailants. Lovino hears his adversaries before he sees them, and in the most peculiar way of snickering behind a high pair of bushes, too.

“Geez…! You knocked him right in the head!”

“I didn’t mean to! It slipped!”

“He isn’t going to be happy.”

“Aw, man, nice going, Gil…”

“Shut up, it’s fine.”

“You’re going to retrieve that, aren’t you?”

“If you stop pestering me!”

Lovino’s narrowed eyes roll up to the back of his head, a groan already making its way out of his mouth. In curiosity of what the obviously thrown object that hit his head is, he glances down, finding a thin, light, wooden frisbee. The polished outside feels smooth in his hand as he picks it up and looks it over, only lifting his head when—

“Shoot! He’s taking it!”

“Maybe he’ll give it back?”

“You can always ask for it back.”

“And get sucker-punched?”

“Oh, Lovi wouldn’t do that!”

“He definitely would!”

“He’s probably going to want to since he’s hearing your every word, Gilbert.”

Lovino huffs at that line.  _ Darn right I do, and you’ve got it coming. _ Not wasting another second, he starts toward the bush. As he reaches it, although before he can deliver that fiery punch, up pops a figure with arms raised in a surrendering defense.

“It slipped—I threw it and it slipped!” Sputters Gilbert, already earning a doubtful grunt from Lovino.

Gilbert is a fellow angel, a friend of Lovino’s brother more than of Lovino himself, but the prince tolerates him. Most of the time Lovino simply finds him annoying with his overconfidence, obnoxious personality, and arrogant tendencies, but there is no doubt that Gilbert could always bring life to a dull situation. His exuberant smile could make Lovino scowl at the brightness of it, as if he were looking at the sun. 

However, while Gilbert acts as a perfectly normal, albeit hyper, angel would, he appears to be quite the opposite. Already presenting the abnormality of being one of the rare albinos in Heaven, Gilbert’s angelic look doesn't quite match expectations. On his back is only one wing, brilliant, white feathers proudly shining. Where the other should be is nothing but a nasty scar underneath his clothing. An accident involving falling into a fire had been what Gilbert explained it as, not going into much more specific detail aside from exaggerations of how ‘epic’ and ‘legendary’ he was to survive it. Despite the one wing, Gilbert can still fly, although it isn’t an easy task. The wonders of magic are still being discovered, and one of Gilbert’s findings has been the ability to create an almost physical wing of pure magic energy to lift and carry him off the ground for limited periods of time. Even Lovino must admit that it’s pretty impressive.

What isn’t impressive is the pathetic, stammering figure before him. With a deadpan stare, Lovino listens quietly as Gilbert continues to explain himself, making gestures and pointing all around.

“Besides,” goes on the other, “Feliciano could have caught it. He was standing right there.”

“I could  _ not _ have!” Not a second later, Gilbert is joined by said angel jumping up beside him. Feliciano is nearly a mirror image of Lovino, yet at the same time holds many subtle differences than his brother. While Lovino’s hair is a dark chocolate brown, Feliciano’s is more chestnut colored, and instead of golden eyes, his are amber. He also has more freckles than Lovino and a rounder face as well, making him appear younger, when in actuality the two angels are twins. Lovino is technically older, separated with responsibilities and expectations between the minutes gapping him and Feliciano. 

“Lovi, Gilbert threw that frisbee way over my head,” Feliciano protests, his voice pitching upwards. “I couldn’t have caught it in time. It wasn’t my fault!”

“I would have caught it,” Gilbert shrugs.

“No way,” scowls Feliciano in return. “Not even you could have.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah!”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to put that challenge into simulation, are you?” The third and final contribution to the party behind the bush finally makes himself known. Joining the two bickering angels stands the tallest of the trio. Broad-shouldered and stoic, Ludwig is, much like Lovino, the opposite of his eccentric brother, only, unlike the latter, Ludwig is actually the younger. Although, with his maturity far surpassing Gilbert’s, the mistaken switch has been commonly made. While on the quieter side, Ludwig is still always present in Feliciano’s and Gilbert’s shenanigans; despite their differing personalities, Feliciano’s really a lot closer to Ludwig than Gilbert, the two having been inseparable friends for years. As odd as it may seem to others viewing from the outside, the friendship between Ludwig and Feliciano held to be strong and healthy.

“We didn’t mean to hit you, Lovi,” Feliciano’s voice brings him back. The angel rocks back on his feet, contemplating. “But… Since you’re here now, why don’t you join us?” He flashes his brother a welcoming smile.

“Join you?” Lovino scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I don't have time to play games.”

“Then what are you doing out here?” Ludwig prompts with a raised eyebrow. “Are you running an errand?”

“No,”

“Then you’re here on leisure.”

“No—well…” Lovino furrows his brow and crosses his arms, a wrinkle forming above his nose. “Not exactly. I’m here on a break from training, but that doesn’t mean I need to waste it in games.”

Gilbert laughs, a breath blown through his lips. “What else is there to do?” 

“Reflection,” replies Lovino.

“Who wants to do that?” Gilbert scoffs in reply, taking over before Lovino can. “Come on, join us for a few, yeah?”

“You’re really not going to let me go, huh?”

“We won’t keep you long, Lovi,” Feliciano assures as he bends to take the disk from Lovino. “Go long, Ludwig!”

Lovino stands still for a moment as he watches the small group resume their antics. Feliciano sends the frisbee gliding while Ludwig starts after it in a long stride. He snatches it from the air, calling out to Gilbert as he tosses it over to the albino.

“Don’t just stand there,” Gilbert throws Lovino a challenging grin. “Race you.”

“Oh yeah?” Lovino raises an eyebrow, glancing over to the frisbee in the air.

“Yeah,” 

“Have fun losing then,” Without another second to waste, Lovino takes off. Feet pounding on the grass, he races towards the flying object. Not far behind him is Gilbert, quickly catching up. That thought hits Lovino. Of course—pick one of the most active angels to race against, that’s brilliant. Lovino isn’t going to let that go so easily, however. Spotting Gilbert coming up beside him, Lovino moves right, cutting the other off. It brings about a startled quip from Gilbert, as well as a smirk from Lovino afterwards. He holds the lead, stretching his wings behind him, and with a beat, leaps into the air. The disk is still airborne, slowly floating to the ground. A small breeze lifts it up, and Lovino chases after it. He flies higher, faster, ignoring Gilbert calling behind him. The frisbee begins to fall again, closer to Lovino yet still out of reach and getting further. Lovino stretches out his arm, fingers reaching, not yet able to grasp the edge, not without another beat of his wings. A little more, only a little further to reach.

“Do a flip!” He hears Gilbert cackle behind him. Lovino scrunches his face, straining, so close. In one more swipe of his arm, his fingers finally fold around the frisbee’s edge, right as his feet hit the ground, sending Lovino stumbling clumsily back to the land. The others let out a combination of cheers and laughter, a whoop from Feliciano. Lovino joins, glancing back and holding up the disk, releasing a call of his own. 

In the next step backwards, Lovino collides into something behind him. Startled, he jumps, turning quickly to look up at the figure before him. Eyes growing wide, Lovino pauses, the frisbee dropping from his hand. Instantly everything freezes around Lovino. The cheers from his friends quiet, the mere outside noise of Heaven dissipates, and all that is left with Lovino was his own heartbeat thrumming faintly in his chest. 

Before him stands a masculine angel with brown skin and dark eyes. His sturdy arms are crossed from his broad shoulders. The angel is a good half a foot taller than Lovino, casting a shadow over the other with two great wings. 

“Well, what do we have here?” With a sly smile already creeping along his face, the angel tilts up his chin. “Do princes get a lunch break?”

“I…I...” Lovino stammers momentarily before shaking himself out of his daze. After a couple blinks, his composure is regained, and Lovino’s voice finds some steadiness. “I wanted an outing.”

“Right, because that is totally appropriate before coronation,” The other angel scoffs. “I bet you were sent away because you suck at your routine and your old man couldn’t deal with you anymore.”

Lovino frowns. “Excuse you, I’m doing fine at my routine, Sadiq. I can choose a walk when I need one. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be off.” With a huff, Lovino turns, tossing a bang of hair from his eyes as he starts back. However, he doesn’t get very far before catching the mumble, just loud enough to reach his ears.

“You’ll never be a ruler is all you ever do is slack off,”

Fingers tighten around the disk in his hand, and Lovino’s steps come to a stop. “What did you say?” He eyes Sadiq sternly.

The other angel only sneers, turning up his chin. “Why should I repeat it to you, Your Highness?”

“I suggest you mind that tongue,” Lovino warns. “You’re speaking to a future authority.”

Sadiq lets out a mocking laugh, stepping forward. Looming over Lovino, he presses his knuckles into his palms with a series of cracks. Eyes narrowing, he stares Lovino down. “Make me.”

Despite the intimidating boy over him, Lovino doesn’t avert his gaze. In fact, instead of feeling threatened, Lovino’s fists only clench tighter in aggravation. This isn’t the first time Sadiq has teased at his position or has gotten on Lovino’s nerves; it’s a mystery what had struck between the two boys to make them as resistant as fire and ice, but there is no mixing between the two. 

“You don’t look like a true leader,” Sadiq continues to sneer. “You’re a scrawny little angel with dirty wings. You’ve only gotten as far as you have through your petty bloodline. You’ll never be strong enough to lead Heaven.”

“I will be,” Lovino retorts. “My grandfather has taught me fine.”

“Oh, because your granddaddy is such a great leader. Right,” Sadiq rolls his eyes. “He’s no ruler. He’s a coward, and Heaven is weak with him on the throne. We never needed that sack of old bones, and we certainly don’t need his grandson.”

A sudden burst of angry heat flares up Lovino’s spine. How dare Sadiq speak lowly of Romulus, after all he has done to lead. What kind of angel would trash their ruler, especially one as faithful as Lovino’s grandfather? The mere thought sets Lovino grinding his teeth, and he steps forward. “You take that back,” he spats.

“Or what? You think you can stop me?” Sadiq challenges. “You’re just as pathetic. You’ve never been a soldier; you’ve never had to fight. You’ve been pampered by royal life so much that you couldn’t take down a cloud. And Romulus is so weak that if it rains, he’ll wash up dead on the shore in minutes.”

Lovino’s teeth grind together painfully.

“You’re wrong,” is all he can manage to spit.

“Yeah? You think you’re so great and deserving?” Sadiq leans threateningly close down to Lovino, locking both their dark eyes. “Prove it.”

The words hit Lovino the moment they leave Sadiq’s mouth, but he doesn’t move, not immediately. From the back of his head, a familiar voice speaks up in encouragement. 

_ What are you waiting for?  _ It urges.  _ Prove it. _

Lovino’s legs straighten, one lifting and stepping forward; at the same time the hand that had been previously holding the frisbee is drawn back, right before being thrown in a mighty punch to Sadiq’s protruding nose. Followed by a cloud of dust, the larger angel flies down to the ground with a great thud. Sadiq’s disoriented eyes follow imaginary, circling stars around his peripherals a couple times before he shakes himself back to Heaven’s reality. The shock etched in his features remains only for a breathed second before it is replaced by offended anger.

“You…”

Before Sadiq, Lovino stands as a statue, still processing his own surprise from the action he had taken. It was certainly out of order for a prince, more than an unforeseen circumstance for him to find himself in. Although he doesn’t turn around, Lovino can imagine the others watching from where they stood, appalled to silence. Yet, as his adrenaline evens out, Lovino is welcomed by another feeling; as his brain replays the scene of Sadiq’s arrogant behind smacking the dirt, Lovino’s mouth curves into a triumphant grin.  _ Proof. _

However, such a grin is soon swiped by Sadiq’s heated fist.

Lovino hardly has a moment to register any pain before the ground below knocks the wind out of his lungs. A brief second passes where a boulder sits on his chest, preventing his breath from returning.

“You scrawny little spoiled twig!” Sadiq’s slur of insults follows his steps towards Lovino, fists tightening at every word. “You call that a punch? That was pitiful. Still, you think I’m letting you get away with that?”

Lovino, back and breathing, scrambles up to his feet, bringing crossed arms in front of him. However, Sadiq is too quick, knocking Lovino’s knees out from under him. Before the boy hits the ground, Sadiq’s fist grasps in his hair, pulling him up. “ _ Huh _ ?”

Biting back a scream, Lovino peers up at Sadiq through squinted eyes, struggling to see through the pain. From afar he can hear a yell from Feliciano. 

“Who do you think you are?” demands Sadiq, shaking his fist and Lovino along with it.

Lovino can’t hold back the protest of pain, grabbing at Sadiq’s arm in an attempt to pull him off. The other’s grip is too firm. The back of his head throbs, pain pulsing with his heartbeat. What makes it worse is that Sadiq insists on yelling, too. 

“You think you’re so tough, don’t you? Hah! You’re just a scrappy wimp trying to be a big shot. You’ll never have what it takes to rule. You’ll be as useless as your old man on that throne. You and your whole family—you’re not meant to be Rulers. You don’t deserve your bloodline. Oh deserve to return to the dirt just like everyone else.” 

_ You’re wrong. _ Lovino growls in his head, reaffirming his hold on Sadiq.  _ He’s wrong.  _ Again the heat of anger swells within his blood, racing through his body and this time gathering steadily in his palms. It only builds up for so long before the hand in his hair released, and Sadiq pulls back his arm with a surprised yelp. In the brief second of Sadiq stumbling back, Lovino makes his move, lunging forward. His fist connects with the other’s jaw, sending Sadiq down.

_ Hit him. He deserves it. _

Lovino does. An uppercut snaps Sadiq’s head back, and when it sags back down, blood drips down his face. Still, Lovino delivers another, and then one more, his fist growing hotter and hotter. All the while, the small voice inside encourages him.

_ He insulted your reign.  _

Sadiq’s yell is faint to his ears.

_ He insulted your grandfather. _

The struggling beneath him begins to grow frantic.

_ Hit him harder.  _

_ Show him proof. _

_ Kill him. _

Lovino freezes mid-hit, abruptly straightening at the comment. It had come completely out of nowhere, not part of his nature at all. That was too far. Lovino’s fists uncurl, the heat seeping away; he hasn’t realized how hot his hands actually were until now. His gaze drops down to Sadiq, who has his arms up in protection of his face. Lovino can see the skin starting to blister, and he can’t help but grimace. It takes a moment to find the words to speak.

“Sadiq—”

“What the stars were you trying to do to me?” Sadiq’s fingers scramble blindly until they find Lovino’s shirt, grabbing the fabric tightly. Enraged eyes bear down into Lovino’s with a snarl. “You were trying to kill me, huh?!”

“Wha— No!” Lovino sputters.

“I’ll show you,” Sadiq says, raising his own glowing fist. “I’ll insinerate you!”

Lovino winces, bracing himself for the landing blow, but another voice breaks in.

“I don’t think that will be necessary unless you look forward to a visit to Icarus Prison,”

Both boys stop, whirring their heads to find a man walking calmly towards them. He is rather short, but that doesn’t minimize the authoritative aura radiating from him. They don’t even need to find the badge over his heart. His sharp, green eyes are deep with secrets and vagueness, full of war-filled memories behind mysterious closed doors. His expression is rather lacking of emotion, relaxed yet watchful behind blank, pointed features. His blond, smooth hair sits messily styled upon his head, never truly able to be brought down. The one striking feature, the most notable of his appearance, is that of his wings. Attached to his shoulder blades are two large, ebony wings full of blackened feathers, easily drawing the eyes of bystanders. Of course, Lovino recognizes him immediately.

“Arthur?”

“That’s Commander Kirkland to you,” Arthur corrects without any hint of a smile. His gaze shifts to Sadiq, taking in the boy’s appearance. “Are we in a spot of trouble here? I suggest you remove your hands from your prince.”

Sadiq nearly chokes, spluttering out a mix of cut-off, angry protests. Inevitably, after the fifth attempt to speak, he gives up, practically shoving Lovino away. Wiping his bleeding nose, he glares at the prince, shoulders tense and jaw clenching. “I’ll get you for this,”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” warns Arthur coolly. “Unless you’d like to add more trouble to your name.”

“Shut up,” Sadiq snaps. 

“Arthur,” Lovino tries, then stops. “Er—Kirkland, it wasn’t anything—”

“I’ll decide that,” Arthur states.. “It seemed pretty obvious to me. I do say, however, are you not supposed to be practicing, Mr. Vargas? Your ceremony is arriving quite quickly.” He pauses, turning an eye to Sadiq. “I suggest you clean yourself up and run onto other things before I decide to report this.”

Sadiq tenses, giving a stiff nod and a mumbles “yes, sir…” He turns, though not before giving Lovino another murderous look, and with a heavy beat of his wings, takes to the sky.

Lovino watches as the angel flies off in a huff, a strange pit in his gut. 

“Truly, you are such trouble.”

He looks back at Arthur, who is shaking his head in a sigh.

“Honestly,” The commander goes on. “How many times do I find you in a fight? And it’s usually with him. Why couldn’t you be more passive like your brother? It doesn’t hurt to take a few insults. You’ll get plenty of them when you’re a Ruler.”

Lovino’s eyes fall to the ground, his brow furrowing. “He wasn’t insulting me. He was insulting my grandfather.”

Arthur takes a moment to think on that, nodding slowly. “Ah, I see. While I suppose the reason is justifiable by means, your actions and intentions were not. That was no way for someone of future Heavenly authority to act.”

Lovino rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’ve given me this lecture too many times to count.”

“Yet you never seem to learn from it,” Quips Arthur. “I take it your break must be up. I can escort you back to the palace.”

Lovino groans. So much for a time to relax and destress. Distracted, he takes a look behind him. “Is Feliciano coming?”

“Your brother has his own matters to attend to.” Arthur replies. “He will return eventually. Come.” 

“His own matters…” Lovino grouses, following Arthur. “Playing all day and eating all night. What a life.” 

Arthur offers one breath of a chuckle. “He shares his own load of responsibilities.”

“My grandfather isn’t going to be informed of this, is he?” Lovino asks with a hint of anxiety. The last thing he needs before his celebration is a scolding.

“I don’t see a need to as long you intend to stay out of trouble,” Arthur answers. “I must say, you were quite set on him. Merciless.”

“Yeah…” Lovino’s eyes trail to the ground beneath him. Merciless he had felt for sure, but it seemed out of his control. That impulsive thought, that small, encouraging voice… Even though it was in his head, it felt out of place. It unnerves him. Desperate to shake the feeling from his shoulders, Lovino changes the subject. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Last I checked, Commander’s don’t usually get a lunch break.”

“I was actually already on my way to the palace,” Arthur explains. “Hence why I have no trouble escorting you there. I’m bringing information of the next mission to your grandfather.”

“Weren’t you around yesterday for that same purpose, though?” Lovino questions. “And Francis was here this morning.”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, only briefly glancing at Lovino. “However, we’ve gained further intel on a few subjects that is rather...peculiar.”

“Is it bad?” Lovino asks.

“It’s mildly concerning.”

Lovino straightens in piqued interest. “What’s going on? Can’t you tell me?”

Arthur side-eyes him again, pausing before a small smile pulls his lips. After a thought, he replies, “I don’t think a young prince such as yourself needs to be preoccupied with anything other than your studies.”

“Oh, Arthur, why can’t I know?”

“Now, now, enough of that. If you’re so curious, you may ask Lord Romulus himself after your training,” Arthur raises a hand in a wave as the two angels approach the regal gates of the palace. As the golden doors part, Lovino and Arthur make their way inside. Lovino can’t help but wonder about Arthur’s mission—the higher angels always get the most intense tasks, ones that involve dangerous creatures from other realms. More often than not those missions are classified, so much that even Romulus doesn’t discuss them with Feliciano and Lovino, only telling them that they would know once Lovino takes the throne. Why it was so important that he could only know when he was ruler, Lovino could only half grasp. In the end it’s all just bigger than he is.

The two angels walk down the extravagant hallways until they come upon a large, decorated door. A substance similar to marble is engraved with angelic script. “The greatest rulers are the most humble servants” Lovino reads, hardly glancing at the letters. Arthur brings up a hand to the door, a blue spark connecting from his finger to the marble. As the light grazes the surface of the door, it scattered out to the edges, illuminating the corners. The door opens.

Beyond Arthur and Lovino is a room that contrasts the rest of the castle. While the chambers and halls and various other rooms are adorned with regal and magnificent decorations—gold that lines the floor, crystals glimmering within the windows, and old, history-worn artifacts that hang against the walls—the room ahead appears quite bland and definitely incohesive to the rest of the palace. It is smaller, for one, much smaller. It leads into a larger area, but even the second room is tiny compared to the mere entrance of the castle. Secondly, it is a mirrored copy of a typical abode on Earth. Against the walls are (of course with Heaven’s touch) couches and chairs, shelves held ancient books, and a large map hangs on the wall. It’s simple—so otherworldly simple. 

But that is what Lovino likes about it, personally. Heaven had a way of making everything so royal and elegant, especially in the palace. Lovino finds most of his comfort in the quaint area; the blandness of it all distracts from the expectation of being a prince. In here, he could be at ease with no pressure of the world outside looking at him. Here, Romulus is no longer The Great Ruler, and he and Feliciano are no longer The Princes— they are simply angels. 

As they head through the first entryway and into the second room, Lovino sees that the larger room isn’t empty. In fact, the company from earlier is still present.

“What’s up, Francis?”

“And that’s—” the words break off unfinished by the angel whose back is facing Lovino. He straightens, glancing behind himself and in doing so, flipping a lock of shoulder-length blond hair over his shoulder. He meets Lovino’s eyes with a playful smirk. “Well, hello there, little ruffian. What kind of trouble have you gotten into today?”

Lovino flushes, going rigid. At first he swings around to Arthur, an accusation already on his lips, but the other angel merely gestures to him, and glancing down at himself, it is as plain as day that he has been roughed up. Of course Arthur doesn’t have to mention it to his grandfather—it’s already written all over Lovino himself. 

As Romulus himself notices, his expression falls slightly. “Lovino, I thought you went you for a relaxing break to  _ calm down _ .”

“Yeah, well…” Lovino stumbles for words, sheepishly averting his gaze. Instead he steps forward, his curiosity changing the subject. “What are you guys talking about? The new mission.”

Francis chuckles, nodding. “Classified information.” He winks. “Very dangerous.”

Lovino’s eyes widen. “Dangerous?”

“Extremely.”

“What kind of dangerous?”

“The worst kind you can imagine.”

Lovino leans in, drawn in seconds. “Like…?” He near whispers. “Like demons…?”

“And that’s enough of that,” Arthur speaks over Lovino, clearing his throat. He sends a warning look to Francis, gesturing with his head to a nearby chair. Lovino follows, starting slightly when he sees another figure, one so still that Lovino hadn’t noticed their presence at all. They are curled up in a small form, head hidden behind folded arms. By their silence, Lovino could only guess that they’re sleeping.

“Ah, yes, my bad,” Francis quickly apologizes. 

“Lovino,” Arthur takes over, turning to the young prince. “I believe training is awaiting you?”

Lovino’s shoulders slump. “Aw, c’mon… Do I have to?” He gives Romulus his most pleading, puppy-dog-eyed look.

Romulus only shakes his head with a smile, gesturing with an arm. “Your ceremony is soon. There’s no time to slack off, yeah?”

Lovino sulks.

“Your brother will be home soon,” Romulus continues. “We’ll all have dinner. Until then…” 

“Practice,” Lovino finishes with a sigh. “Alright. If I’m not up by dinner, assume I’m too tired to move.” With that, Lovino trudges his way out the door.

  
  


**********

Romulus waits until the last white feather is out of sight before turning back to the two soldiers with him. “New word?” He asks, expectant eyes lifting to Arthur.

“We believe we have located the rift,” the dark angel replies formally, reaching into his pocket to pull out an opal orb. “Of course the bad news is that a clearer signal means more energy. It must be growing wider.”

Romulus pauses on that, taking in Arthur’s words. Slowly he nods, brow furrowing in thought. “Where?”

“We’ve narrowed down the area to the North Sanctus Forest.” Arthur brushes two fingers over the front of the smooth orb, pulling up an image—a map. Tracing his way down a path, he points to where a large area of the forest is colored darkly. “We believe somewhere in here is where the energy rays are strongest and coming from a source.”

Romulus hums, although his expression hardened with concern. “That is closer than I’d like it to be.”

“So far there hasn’t been any other activity from it,” Francis takes his turn to speak. “Of course while we haven’t found it, we also haven’t felt any other presence from it.”

“Our men are continuing to search for it,” Arthur adds, motioning to several colored clusters. “We have several teams investigating the lower and higher parts of the woods. We’ve left markers as well as magical barriers in case anything does find its way through. We’ll immediately be informed if anything runs into said barriers.”

“How has finding a way to close it been coming along?” Romulus asks.

The two soldiers share a look with one another of uncertainty before Arthur lets out a breath.

“We aren’t quite sure how to close this thing since we don’t exactly know what it is,” He admits. “We have our hypotheses, but those are only from precedents of the past. This could be something we’ve never even seen before, especially since we can’t even seem to locate it.”

“I think we need to start finding it sooner than later.”

“We realize the severity of the situation,” Arthur says. “We’re putting our best angels forward to handle this.”

Romulus sighs. “I know you are. I have faith in my trusted commanders.” He lifts his head. “I just don’t want to leave a potential war in my grandson’s hands.”

“We understand,” Francis assures. “We’ll do our best, Sir.”

“I know you will,” Romulus replies, studying the two commanders. 

“You needn’t worry about this,” Arthur adds. “You’ve got a ceremony to look forward to.”

“Ah,” Romulus smiles at the reminder. “That is true. One last round of chaos before I go.”

“How is it coming along?” Arthur asks. “Lovino’s training, I mean.”

“He’s getting there,” says Romulus. “A few hiccups, but he’s determined, so I know he’ll get it down.”

“Is there anything more you need us to do in planning?” Francis offers, sitting back. “Please, let us help.”

“You’ve already done so much,” Romulus chuckles, shrugging his shoulders honestly. “You’ve taken care of all that needs to be taken care of. The only thing left is for you to show up, and I hope you will.”

“What in Heaven would stop us?” Arthur crosses his arms but smiles. “All three of us will be there. Definitely.” 

“I’m grateful,” Romulus nods. “Lovino is, too. Ah, speaking of the  _ three _ of you…” His attention caught, Romulus glances over at the curled figure in the chair. “I thank you for coming and all the help you’ve given Lovino and I. I know I’ve kept you hours too long.”

Francis is already waving a hand in dismissal, heading over to the chair. “My Lord, there is no need to thank us. We live to serve you.” Bending slightly, he rests a hand over the shoulder of the sleeping boy, his voice softening. “Hey, time to wake up.”

The one in the chair takes barely a moment to stir, lifting his head. Curly blond hair fell over his face, brushed away quickly afterwards. Behind round-rimmed glasses are two violet eyes, dulled from sleep. He pauses a second, still in his position as if gathering himself, remembering where he is. Eventually Francis’s voice draws his gaze up to the man.

“We’re all finished,” Francis is saying to him. “Ready to head out?” The boy nods.

“Thanks for bearing with us, Matthew,” Romulus speaks up kindly. “I know it’s been a long few days.”

Matthew’s attention quickly turns to Romulus, now alert with a clear head. After a moment to process the Ruler’s words, he gives another nod, sitting up. Unlike Francis, whose wings have unfolded after sitting, the space behind Matthew remains empty. In fact, Matthew’s whole back is vacant—no white wings anywhere to be seen. 

“Need this?” Francis steps forward, offering to Matthew a smooth, pale-colored staff. About two-thirds of the way up sticks out a handle, and the top of the crutch is curved in a crest-shape for an arm to rest in. Matthew takes it with a grateful nod.

“We’ll be with you soon,” Arthur assures once as he hands Romulus the now dormant orb. “We’ll bring you any new information that comes up.”

“Thank you,” Romulus says, standing. “Take care of yourselves.”

“Will do,” Francis calls back, leading Matthew out. Arthur follows steadily, giving Romulus a bow of his head before exiting with the other two.

Romulus, after watching the two commanders head out, glances down at the dull orb in his hand. His thoughts drift back to the map, visualizing the image he had seen again. They’re getting closer to locating the rift in Heaven’s realm, but the estimated area is still much too large for Romulus’s liking. Ideally, he would rather the obstruction be found and eliminated before the ceremony, especially as the day draws uncomfortably close, but that might not be possible. As Arthur had mentioned this disturbance has no specific precedent; this is new magic, it’s source unknown. It could be from a wholly new realm for all Romulus knows. With such lack of information and location, finding ways to dispose of it had limits. Even Romulus can’t repair anything if he didn’t know what’s broken. Hopefully it isn’t anything too serious, although Romulus highly doubts that. Still… it would be disappointing to crown Lovino Ruler and then dump a new, complex problem onto his shoulders.

With Lovino in mind… Romulus glances out the window behind him, eyeing the sun. It is getting to be late afternoon, almost evening; Feliciano will be returning home anytime now, and Lovino will be finishing up his training. Then they would all gather from their separate places for supper. Romulus smiles—dinners together, just the three of them and occasionally the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family, are times Heaven’s King cherishes. He won’t have those much longer, so the last few he has taken slow, pausing multiple times to simply look around and be in the moment. His boys would sometimes give him odd looks when he stopped midway through a conversation, but they never press it. Somehow, Romulus believes they know.

He still has a bit of time before supper, and there is plenty to do to fill that time. His eyes fall from the wall where they had been staring off back to the smooth object in his hand. He should look through that map again and try to find any anomalies or hints to shrink down the shaded area. He isn’t a soldier anymore, and he definitely isn’t the best at angel technology, but he can find more information on the device. It will take some tinkering, but Romulus also prides himself in being a fast learner. With that in mind, he taps the top of the orb, waiting as it illuminates. A holographic menu floats up, and Romulus goes to work.

**********

His wings feel more like weights than anything despite their light appearance. They practically touch the floor as Lovino’s bent legs drag each foot across. Sluggishly he forces his battered body across the room towards the spotted refuge of the soft, cloud-like couch, collapsing upon it with an exhausted groan. 

“I’m not going to have any power left for the coronation…” He mutters, arms hanging as dead weights on both sides of the couch. 

“Tired much?” The question comes from across the room to the right, behind a smooth, white counter. Feliciano stands on the other side, working away at what would be their dinner.

“I haven’t worked so hard since learning to fly,” Lovino replies in a muffled tone. “I was certain my wings would fall right off.”

Feliciano giggles. “You’ll sleep well tonight then.”

“Tonight, through tomorrow, and all the way past the celebration,” clarifies Lovino. 

“Right, that’ll earn you a reputation quickly,” Feliciano rolls his eyes jokingly. “‘Lovino, the Lazy, Golden-Eyed Ruler of Heaven,’” 

“Lazy?” Lovino lifts his head in attention, a frown etched on his face. “No way! I’ve worked my tail off on that stupid routine.”

“Well, all that work won’t mean anything if you don’t show up.”

Lovino pauses at that, folding his arms under his chin. In a lower voice, he sighs, “Well, at least it would mean no one would see my mistakes.”

“Lovi,” Feliciano’s tone softens a bit, and he stops his work. “You’ll do fine. Your practice will pay off, and you’re going to make a great Ruler.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lovino waves a hand in dismissal. “You and Nonno are both the same.”

“I’m serious,” Feliciano pushes, stepping around the counter and over to where Lovino lies. “I think you’re overwhelming yourself. What are you so worried about?”

“That I won’t get it right?” Lovino barks a sarcastic laugh. “Uh, that I’ll mess up and be an embarrassment of a Ruler for millennia to come? Y’know, the usual for any angel.”

“Lovino,” Gently Feliciano places a hand over Lovino’s shoulder, rubbing the tired joint. “If you dwell on it like this, it’ll only harm you in the end. I know I’m not under the same strain you are, but...I suggest you try to relax a little bit, okay? I can call over Ludwig and Gilbert if you want—they’ll loosen you up.”

“Definitely not,” Lovino is quick to answer. “As much as I like Ludwig, I can’t stand the sight of him. And Gilbert’s just annoying.”

Feliciano makes a face, “And you’re just mean.” 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Do you have anything else to say?”

“Yeah—your title as leader is going to be ‘Lovino, the Meanest Angel.’”

“I thought it was lazy.”

“We’ll make it both, then.”

Lovino groans, lazily batting at his brother. “You’re such a pain…”

“Don’t insult me, I’m making your dinner!”

Lovino thinks. “Speaking of dinner,” the angel mumbles. “Where’s Nonno?”

“He’ll be back soon,” Feliciano draws his hand away, turning back to the kitchen. “He stayed back to finish up some work. Ruling Heaven gives you no mercy, even at the end of your days.”

“Great, I have so much to look forward to,” Lovino grouses. “I wonder if it was about Arthur and Francis’s mission…”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll figure it out,” Feliciano looks up over at Lovino. “You just gonna lay there while I do all the cooking?”

Lovino meets Feliciano’s gaze, sending his younger twin a pathetic smile. “I’m honestly too tired to move.”

The other merely smirks, shaking his head. “This once because I’m nice. But you’re getting cleanup.”

“Deal,” Lovino agrees. 

“What’s this ‘deal’ now?” A new voice enters the conversation. Romulus steps through the entryway and into the kitchen, pausing to take a long, deep sniff of the air. A warm smile stretches on his face. “Smells wonderful. Is that all you, Feli?”

“That’s right,” Feliciano grins in reply. “And it’s almost finished, too. Lovino’s resting, though.”

“A bit tired, are we?” Romulus peers over the counter.

“I’m going to lie here until I turn to stone,” Lovino sleepily answers.

“All that hard training will pay off,” Romulus reminds him, grabbing a couple plates. “Come eat with us.”

“Comin’...” With another groan Lovino pushes himself up, stretching his sore muscles and wings.

Soon enough, the three angels sit themselves around the table, food settled before them. The smell is heavenly—as Feliciano’s cooking usually is. Lovino’s mouth is already watering by the time he sits, so much that his hands are already grabbing his utensils, lifting in the air, ready to stab at the deliciousness below.

“Ahem,” Romulus’s call stops Lovino mid-jab. The older angel stares Lovino down with an amused, raised eyebrow. He has his hands held out, palms up. Beside Romulus, opposite of Lovino, Feliciano places the palm of his hand in his grandfather’s. He gives Lovino a side-smirk, rubbing in his guilty catch. 

Lovino rolls his eyes, setting down his fork. However, he doesn’t protest—a blessing over the meal is tradition; besides, Romulus’s words have a direct impact as well.

“Oh, Lord above,” Romulus starts once Lovino’s hand is in his. His eyes close, and his head bows in respect. “We thank you for another day you have provided for us. We also thank you for the upcoming celebration for our Lovino, and we ask that his training pay off in glory to you. Bring us your blessings in our lives and honor in our actions. Amen.”

“Amen,” both Lovino and Feliciano repeat as if the phrase were a rehearsed line. Lovino inwardly shrinks at the reminder of the coronation, and when he picks up his fork again, it is only to pick at the dinner before him.

_ Please let it pay off…  _ He pleads to himself. What if it doesn’t, though? What if he ends up messing up in front of everyone in Heaven? What if he makes an embarrassment of himself before every angel?

_ I guess I’d have to kill them all. _

Lovino inhales sharply in surprise, sucking in a piece of food. His breath catches, lungs seizing, and he leans over, thrown into a series of coughs. He feels a hand lightly slapping his back and hears Feliciano’s worried tone.

“Lovi? What happened? Are you okay?”

_ Does it look like I’m okay?  _ Lovino wants to snap back, but he’s too focused on getting his breath again. After a few more forceful hacks, whatever had lodged itself in his throat becomes unstuck, and Lovino can breathe again. He refills his lungs, noticing how he had grown to miss the mere particles of air in that short period of time. 

“Lovino?” Romulus asks. He extends a hand, gently rubbing Lovino’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

Lovino waves him off, pulling away from Feliciano. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” He says, voice hoarse. “Wrong pipe.”

“Geez,” Feliciano says. “It’s only a few days before your coronation, and you’re going to die by choking on a piece of lamb? It wasn’t even that big.”

“Like I told you,” Lovino jabs. “Wrong pipe.” He grabs a swig of water.

“Luckily that was all,” Romulus says. He smiles at Feliciano. “I must say, Feli, you’ve done a wonderful job on this.”

“Yeah, it’s not burnt like mine,” Lovino adds.

“You have other talents,” Feliciano says. “Just not cooking. Or eating correctly, for that matter.”

“More like breathing.”

“How you’re going to manage your ceremony, I’m not sure,” 

Lovino’s stops at that, the comment, while meant to be joking, hitting him like a boulder to the chest. His fork freezes in its place, hovering over a piece of lamb. He sighs, shoulders slumping and appetite waning.

Romulus senses his dismay, and he speaks up with reassurance. “You’ll get it down. We all have before, and you’ll be no different.”

“I bet it was easier before,” Lovino mumbles.

“Actually,” Romulus says. “It hasn’t changed at all. It’s the same routine that’s been passed through millennia. I practiced the same bit that you have and hit the same bumps, too.”

“What happens after the ceremony?” Feliciano pipe. up in question.

Romulus eyes his second grandson in curiosity. “What do you mean? Lovino will take the throne, of course.”

“Well, yeah, but what happens to you afterwards? After Lovino becomes a Ruler?” 

A silence falls over the table at the question. The answer to Feliciano’s query is no secret to the angel kind. It has always been the same through millennia; when a Ruler’s place on the throne comes to an end, they will pass it down to the next angel to inherit it. Afterwards, with their purpose complete, the previous Ruler will find eternal peace, something beyond Heaven’s realm. One could say that they die, although more liked to put it as “entering the true Heaven.” Feliciano is no stranger to this lesson in angelic history, especially being a relative of Romulus. Lovino finds his question to be quite abrupt and odd, although… in the back of his head, he can’t help but wonder as well. What would happen to them? When he takes the throne, will Lovino know how to manage Heaven and all of its trials? Is he prepared enough to run the realm without his grandfather’s guide? Outside of Heaven, is he ready to take on full responsibility of caring for his family, for Feliciano, for their friends? Can he handle it all so suddenly?

Romulus lets out a soft breath, setting his fork to the side of his plate. Letting the quiet air settle, he lifts his head, making eye-contact with each of his boys. Those eyes are soft. But also tired, too. They are the eyes that have witnessed many things, both wonderful and heart-wrenching. 

“You two know that I will always be with you in spirit,” He says, his deep voice calm and comforting, even as he reminds Lovino and Feliciano of his fate. “It won’t matter that my form will not be here, or that I won’t be around to sew the rips in your clothes, or brush the feathers of your wings. It won’t matter if you two find yourselves in a separation from each other. I will always be with you, and you will never be alone.”   
“How long…?” Lovino starts. His voice is suddenly thick, hard to push out. He swallows, beginning again. “How long will you have before, y’know…”

To that, Romulus shakes his head. “I don’t know, Lovino. With my father, it was three days. With his father, a few hours. I think it’s different for everyone.”   
“I hope you stay for a long time,” Feliciano says. “Ten years, at least!”

“Geez, Feli, don’t you want the old man to find his peace?” Lovino scoffs. “You’re so selfish.”   
“Am not!”    
“Boys, boys,” Romulus bats the air with his hand, calming the two down, but he does so with a smile. “Let us not be anxious over the things that have not met us yet. We must enjoy the time we have in the now, the present. Enjoy the company, enjoy the memories, and enjoy your food…looks like yours might be getting a bit cold, Lovino.”

“Agh…!” Lovino tests a piece from his plate, grimacing. “Really? This is not the energy refill I need.” The group of them laugh, reheating their food and continuing their meal. Even so, the laughter can’t wash away all the solemness of the previous conversation, nor the worry of the future. It can divert the focus away from the gloomier topics, though, which is exactly what Lovino is grateful for.


	2. The Fall of Lovino Vargas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly... he vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!
> 
> First and foremost, I want to thank you all for the response this fic has had in its short time of being published. I appreciate you all taking time to read this, and even comment and leave kudos! Seriously, you make me smile so much my cheeks hurt. Thank you, guys, it really means a lot to me and inspires me to write more. :)
> 
> So, I will say that I made a somewhat mistake in posting the first chapter... That thing was aaaactually like...two chapters in one, haha. So, I mean, it's a pro for you readers, eh? However, I don't think I can write 20 pages a week (I would LOVE to, but school, life, and writing is hard...)  
> So, this chapter is going to be a bit shorter (but also normal sized?), and the others will follow this one's length for the future.   
> Also! Bit of a warning for violence/blood for anyone who is squeamish!  
> Thanks for your support and patience everyone, and enjoy!

“What if you tried it blindfolded?” suggests Feliciano. “Let the magic guide you, y’know?”

“Feliciano,” Lovino huffs, wiping his sweat-covered brow as he lowers himself from the air. “That is the dumbest thing you’ve come up with yet.”

“How so?” Feliciano challenges, arms crossed. “I think you’re focusing too hard. You should let the routine direct you, not yourself.” 

“Yeah, maybe direct myself into a wall, too, huh?”

“I’m only trying to help…”

_I don’t need your help._ A vicious voice bites back in Lovino’s mind. _Your input would be better from the grave, smothering imbecile…_ Lovino pulls at his lip with his teeth, as if to ensure that the words inside his thoughts don’t leave his mouth. The unnerving comments in his head have become more constant, harder to hold back and ignore. They don’t appear without frustration.

“Yeah, well you can’t help,” He forces out instead; he knows it’s blunt, rude, even, to backhand his brother like that, but it it’s all he can do to replace the threatening impulse in his mind. 

_You have to prove it._

The familiar reminder pops up in Lovino’s head, and he finds himself agreeing with it. Besides—it is true. This routine is _his_ performance made by _him_. Feliciano’s advice won’t help. It can’t. Somehow his younger brother simply doesn’t understand that no matter how many times Lovino reminds him. Still, the hurt-puppy look and the pouted lip that Feliciano sports works its purpose to drive a pang of guilt into Lovino. He sighs.

“Look,” he starts. “This is my thing, alright? I can do this.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Feliciano says. “I just think you’re going too hard on yourself. It looks like you’re fighting not to slip all the time.”

“It does?”  
“Yeah. You look really gross doing it, too. Your face is all scrunched up, like you’re constipated but you can’t go—”

“ _Alright_ , I get it, Feliciano,” Lovino rolls his eyes as much as he could to drive the point of how ridiculous Feliciano’s comments could be. He sits down on the bench with a plop, letting his sore legs stretch out in front of him. Feliciano joins him at his side. 

“Hey, Feli?”

“What?”

“Do you ever feel like your point of action isn’t controlled by your central consciousness?”

“Do I ever feel like my what isn’t what now?”

“Y’know,” Lovino shrugs, leaning over his knees. “Like your actions aren’t always driven out by your own accord. Feeling like something, or _someone_ , else is driving your being around, influencing you.” Lovino grasps at the air for words that didn’t come, his hands falling limp with defeat. How in Heaven is he supposed to explain this, and to his brother, of all angels? There’s no way Feliciano could understand. “Forget it.” Lovino sighs. 

“What?” Feliciano straightens, his expression worried, as if he has failed to see into Lovino’s vulnerability. “No, don’t leave it—” He can already see the dismissal in Lovino’s eyes, his attempts coming to no avail. However, Lovino’s quietness leaves him another opportunity.

“You’ll be a good leader.” He says, “You don’t need to worry about not living up to Romulus.” 

Lovino’s shoulders stiffen at that, surprised with the abruptness of the statement. Then again, he shouldn’t need to be so shocked; despite his nonchalantly clueless complexion, Feliciano is no shallow angel. The surface-area façade ends at his joking smile; his eyes can see deeply into others and their situations. Albeit younger, Feliciano holds wisdom beyond his years. Even knowing this, though, Lovino is still caught by surprise, left stuttering. “I know that. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will,” Feliciano assures. “You’ve just had a lot on your shoulders. You don’t have to carry it alone, you know.”

Lovino chuckles. Yup, and now Feli is working his sweetness charm, using his gift for comforting. “I know. I can count on you.”

“Yes, you can!” grins Feliciano. “I won’t let you fall.”

“Heh,” Lovino huffs a laugh. Of course Feliciano would say something corny like that. However, the voice in his mind has quieted, letting the other’s statement sit in his head. Arching his back with a few unpleasant pops, Lovino stretches with a long yawn. “Well, I think I’m beat for tonight. I’m putting the lid on training today.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Feliciano agrees, standing with his brother. “Soon enough you’ll be through—no more training.”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” Lovino smiles a bit, following Feliciano out. At the door, he pauses, glancing back into the spacious room. Feliciano is right; soon enough he would move to the training room to the throne. Hopefully by then he would have forgotten all the stress of magic can the angels around him, and most of all, the odd voice in his head.

**********

Inevitably, the day of the celebration arrives. Weeks spent in rigorous training and studying would finally pay off; all those sore night’s would be worth it. In the days leading up to the ceremony, Lovino has been relentless in his practice, often spending more than half the day in the large, bulbous room. More than once Feliciano has to fetch him in order to convince Lovino to join for dinner. There are times he honestly feels as if he were forcing Lovino out of the room rather than inviting him. Lovino had needed that time, though, and he knows it himself. Despite his dedication to his performance, he knows he can’t remain in endless training for more than a day without going insane. 

Said training has paid off, however. The steps to the dance are practically seared into Lovino’s brain by the time the week of the celebration arrives. He finds himself mimicking the steps as he walks down the halls or absently waving his arms in the practiced gestures during a conversation. Such improvement has boosted Lovino’s confidence, and soon he begins looking at the ceremony with excited anticipation instead of the gut-dropping dread. 

Another blessing that has come around is the newly gained peace of mind. Within the past few weeks, Lovino’s racing thoughts have quelled to a peaceful ripple. Accompanying the tranquility is the absence of noise—to be specific, the absence of a certain voice. The sneering hiss has made its way into the shadows of Lovino’s head, staying there and avoiding the surface of his thoughts. The irritation has lessened as well, and Lovino finds himself enjoying practice more than hating it, tolerating the few times he must start over.

Thus, the days pass by. Along with practicing in the chamber, Lovino spends his time assisting to the preparations in the town square. The village outside Lovino’s residence is where the celebration would be held—the ground holding the history of crowning Rulers of Heaven. It’s where Romulus had been appointed hundreds of years before, and now Lovino himself would stand there. The young angel finds enjoyment in helping others set up the decorations and stands; it's interesting to see how everything is assembled together behind the scenes.

Feliciano is as excited as Lovino, likely even more so. The boy constantly holds a grin of anticipation whenever around Lovino, making jokes of his future Ruler of a brother. Lovino appreciates the shared enthusiasm as well as the company of his sibling, often seeking to partner with him whenever he has the time to help with the town. Feliciano will always remind Lovino of why he is looking forward to the ceremony to come.

And, eventually, it’s here.

Grunting under the weight of the crate, Lovino hefts the box of tools into the shelf inside the storage shed. Final preparations are nearly finished, and it is only be a matter of a couple hours before the ceremony officially begins. Already angels from the edges of Heaven are gathering; the Angelic Army lines the sides of the streets in solutes, regular citizens fill the sidewalks, and even holograms for broadcasting the event are scattered through the air. To say the celebration would be busy is an understatement. 

Luckily for him, Lovino’s training has officially ended with satisfactory triumph, so assisting in decorating the town has been his time of relaxation. Feliciano, Ludwig, and Gilbert had hung out with him as he stringed along colorful banners, banter bouncing between the four of them before Gilbert and Ludwig were summoned elsewhere. Feliciano had stayed for a while more until Romulus had requested his presence. It was probably for some statement at the celebration or perhaps even something for afterwards.

_Maybe I’ll get a party when this is all done,_ Lovino thinks as he dusts off the shelf underneath where he had set the crate. A party would definitely be nice—a carefree, fun way to end an important day. 

_You’ll be a slacker,_ a familiar hiss seethes in the back of Lovino’s head. Obviously, its silence had been temporary, much to Lovino’s despair. _Ruler’s don’t get to have fun._

While Lovino could argue that Romulus has had lots of fun, especially thanks to himself and Feliciano, the voice does have a point. If Lovino went from the coronation to a free-for-all party— well, it certainly wouldn’t appear very professional for his first day of duty. 

_You forget—today is the day you sign your life away. While everyone else continues with their normal days, you are going to be alone. You won’t have anyone to stand by you._

Now that thought isn’t true...at least, that’s what Lovino hopes. He would have Feliciano with him, wouldn’t he? And Ludwig, and Gilbert, too, as annoying as he could be.

But...Feliciano, Ludwig, and Gilbert, wouldn’t always be around to keep him company— _Lovino_ wouldn’t be around. He would be kept up with duties and projects to oversee. He wouldn’t have the extra time to be around his friends. The concept of even being able to see them at all now teetered with doubt in Lovino’s head.

_You’ll be so lonely. Eventually they’ll stop caring, though, and soon they’ll even forget your face._

Lovino steps back and clutches his shirt. No. Feliciano would never forget him. He’s his own brother for Heaven’s sake! He wouldn’t toss Lovino aside like that. His head had spouted nonsense. He wouldn’t believe it—in fact, he’d just ignore it all for now; he’d clean the silky fabric of his clothes from any dirt, head back to the celebration, give his performance—

“I’ll put them right in here!” The call comes from outside the shed, jolting Lovino out of his thoughts. Someone else is coming, and they’re coming quickly. Lovino has hardly turned around before a shadow fills the doorway—someone with a crate similar to Lovino’s. They pause at the entrance, silent. Then Lovino hears a scoff, then a familiar, mocking snicker.

“Well, look who I ran into—it’s the miniature old hag.”

“Sadiq,” Lovino breathes out as he recognizes the snarky voice, the name deflates with his shoulders. Sadiq steps inside, filling the empty space. Lovino moves aside, although he is sent stumbling with a rough shove from Sadiq as the other angel passes by. He braces himself against the wall with an irritated grunt.

“Fancy seeing you here in this dust,” says Sadiq as he lifts and pushes his crate onto the shelf with ease. He snorts, spitting at the ground before turning to face Lovino, chin cocked back and arms crossed. “I figured you’d be getting your feathers preened and whitened for your big day.” He snickers.

Lovino’s brow twitches in annoyance, and he let: out a breath of his own. “I’m helping with preparations.” He answers simply.

“Really? A prince doing work?” Sadiq asks, aghast. Feigning such shock, he lifts his hand in an exaggerated gesture, waving his fingers through the air. “Heaven truly has changed if rich, pompous angels like you are actually lending their presence in assistance.”

Lovino lets out a dramatic groan, eyes rolling to the back of his head. _There’s no time to deal with this fool._ Lovino can’t tell if that thought belonged to the voice in his head or his own mind. Either way, he agrees. With an exasperated sigh, Lovino raises an eyebrow, “What do you want, Sadiq? Did the bar kick out your old man or something?”

Ooh, that comment strikes a nerve. Sadiq’s wings suddenly bristle, his lip curling into a seething snarl. In a swift turn around, Sadiq snatches Lovino by his shirt, his hot breath landing on the other angel’s face in aggravated huffs. “Watch your tongue, twig, or I’ll rip it right out.”

“It’d behoove you to do the same,” glares Lovino. “Learn to get your high elsewhere instead of bothering me all the time.”

“What, and let you live out your days in ignorance? Let you continue living as the spoiled brat you are without punishment? I don’t think so.”

“That’s what this is?” Lovino scoffs. “A punishment? For what? Look, I’m sorry if I was born in a family that wasn’t so messed up like yours. Not everyone needs to be related to a deadbeat coward—”

“Shut your jabbering mouth!” Furious, Sadiq shoves Lovino to the wall, knocking his head against the wood. Lovino grimaces, pushing at Sadiq’s arm to pry him off. The other angel is bigger in build, however, and Lovino’s efforts fall in vain.

“Everyone knows why you beat on other angels,” Lovino spats, struggling against Sadiq’s hold. “Because your father was a coward! He fought in the same war my grandfather was in—but he ran! He ran with his tail between his legs! He was nothing but a lowly coward! He—”

“I told you to shut your mouth!” This time Lovino receives a bout of knuckles to the face, the hit sending waves of pain through his jaw. Sadiq’s seething voice comes through the ringing in Lovino’s ears. “You’re one to talk about family. Cared for by your grandfather who sent your mommy and pappy out to war—only for them to never come back. Call my pops a coward, but at least he gave a second thought about me instead of abandoning his own kid. Fought nobly, my ass—who knows? Maybe your parents wanted to off themselves in war to relinquish the burden of taking care of you. You were such a brat they couldn’t cope with raising you. I bet that’s why Romulus is handing off the throne now—to find some peace without such a prick to look after.”

Heat swells in Lovino’s throbbing cheeks, his throat tightening. “You’re wrong.” is all he can choke out in fury. No. That isn’t true. It isn’t true at all. Lovino’s parents...they had _chosen_ to fight. They had been soldiers of Heaven, and they knew they had to fight for the greater good…! They hadn’t left because of… No, they had loved Feliciano and himself, they wouldn’t—! And Romulus…

“Am I, though?” Sadiq sneers. “Who would actually want to take care of you? You’re moody, spoiled, arrogant… Should I continue? Deny me all you want, but that’s what everyone thinks. Everyone knows you’re not cut out to be king—you never were.” Snarling, he presses Lovino harder against the wall, his arm across the smaller angel’s neck, pushing against his throat. “You hearing me? You’re not good enough to rule Heaven. Your parents knew that, and they decided that they would rather _die_ than see you be crowned.”

“Shut up…!” Lovino growls, teeth gnashing. He claws at Sadiq towering over him. “You don’t know that! It’s not true!”

Sadiq snatches Lovino’s slender wrist, pushing back on his hand to the point of pain. “Everyone knows it!” He snaps back at Lovino, spittle nailing the other angel’s cheek. “Everyone knows what a failure you are! Everyone knows how you’re going to mess up!”

_Everyone knows…_

_They know you’ll mess up._

_They know you’re not fit to rule._

_They know._

Sadiq’s voice and the one in Lovino’s head begin to blur in a painful manner, but their words ring clearly, pounding themselves into his skull. Each tormenting comment boils Lovino’s blood hotter and hotter to the point where steam is certainly hissing from his ears. He isn’t going to mess up; he had practiced this routine until his fingers bled. Besides, Romulus had gone over every detail with Lovino until he had reached perfection—there was no chance that he could fail. Lovino _knows_ this, he _knows_ Sadiq is wrong, but…

_You have to prove it._

Everything freezes. The pressure of Sadiq’s arm fades into nothing but a light touch; the hard surface of the wall disappears. Lovino stands alone, the walls around him vaporizing into a pie white light. Said light expands all around him, leaving the space empty, all except for Sadiq’s figure in front of him. Before him, Sadiq doesn’t appear quite like Sadiq. Shadows bubble from is arms, floating off in a wispy, black liquid. The dark aura encases Sadiq’s body, seeping into his eyes and tinting them a harsh yellow. Rage, aggression, disgust—they all radiate from Sadiq’s form, blasting Lovino with insults and malice. This isn’t Sadiq at all, this is—

_Your enemy._

The whisper kisses the back of Lovino’s ear, prickling the hairs on his neck. The urge to snap around sends his heart racing, but his feet hold their position. Does he dare want to see the owner of the voice? Would there even be someone there? Instead he trains his eyes on Sadiq.

_You must destroy him._

Destroy Sadiq…? But how? Lovino can’t even think—! This is another angel, not some ruthless monster to put down!

_Does he really look like an angel to you?_

Lovino blinks, getting another glimpse at Sadiq, studying him. The dark shadows have grown, spreading wider and wider. The anger has increased its intensity, tightening the air around Lovino in a crushing grip. 

_Your job as Ruler is to vanquish all that is evil._

_He’s right in front of you._

_He’s revealed himself as evil._

_If you are truly capable of your future…_

_._

_._

_._

_Prove it._

Lovino’s throat clenches tightly, the back of his head exploding in pain. The white vanishes, melting away to a blurry scene before him. As his vision clears, Lovino focuses on the ground. Hair has fallen over his eyes, and someone is shaking him. His attention is caught by a sudden red splatter on the ground, then the throbbing near the center of his face.

“Are you even listening? What happened, did the poor prince faint?!”

The static clears from Lovino’s ears, allowing the piercing yells to come through. Lovino barely registers the words before a force drives into his gut, expelling any air left in his lungs. His knees buckle beneath him, although the hand pressing against his shoulder doesn’t allow Lovino to fall. 

“Pick up your head, you prick! Look me in the face when I’m talking to you!” Sadiq continues to scream, shoving Lovino harder against the wall. “Do you hear me? Pick up your head, I said! Pick it up! Pick it—” Sadiq’s next words have hardly left his mouth before he is forcefully shoved back. Wings flapping, he stumbles back into the wall, startling to his feet. 

Where he stands, Lovino’s arm hangs stiffly outstretched, his palm open over the place Sadiq’s chest is. Slowly his neck rolls up, hair limply clinging to his face. Behind bangs, Lovino’s golden eyes glare darkly at Sadiq, shadowed in vehement malice. 

“You little…” Sadiq seethes, pressing his hand against his fingers in a series of cracks. “You’ll pay for that.”

Silent, Lovino merely stares at Sadiq before shifting back his shoulders, imitating Sadiq’s string of unholy pops. Hands come up in fists, prepared to fight. Seconds later, Sadiq lunges forward, taking the bait and jumping on Lovino with a swinging punch. Lovino quickly blocks the hit with his arm, unflinching to the impact. His own fist swings up in an unexpected attack, nailing Sadiq on the cheek. The larger angel crumples, although on his way down he manages to grab hold of Lovino’s leg, jerking it from under him. As he does, however, Lovino brings up his knee, kicking Sadiq down.

Never before has so much rage coursed through Lovino’s veins than now as he looks down at Sadiq below him. The pitiful angel is wheezing, one nostril leaking red blood, much like Lovino’s own nose had a few minutes before. The utter disgust at Sadiq tightens Lovino’s fists, sharpening his glare.

Sadiq looks up at Lovino, mouth agape. “What’s wrong with you?” 

His eyes narrow at the question, and Lovino remains silent. The lack of answer only angers Sadiq more, and the angel’s voice rises into yell.

“I said, what the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you?!” Leaping up, Sadiq charges at Lovino, arms outstretched in fury. The air rushes passed his cheeks, through his fingers that are ready to gouge out Lovino’s eyes.

And then it stops.

In an all too swift movement, Lovino halts Sadiq’s attack, a tight grip holding his arm and body stubbornly in place. A surge of panic sparks Sadiq’s heart rate, the first instinct of struggle taking over his actions. Lovino doesn’t let him budge. His grasp traps Sadiq painfully in place.

“You prick…! Let go of me!” Sadiq snaps his eyes up, sending a piercing scowl at Lovino. Although, the sour expression freezes on his face as his eyes meet the other’s. Pulled back lips fall into a limp “o” shaped, gasp of fear, and the tension of rage replaces itself with cold terror. Sadiq gawps with mouth agape at the angel before him.

_“What’s wrong with me?”_ Lovino seems to say, although Sadiq isn’t quite sure if his voice matches the words. Hell, he can hardly tell if Lovino’s mouth is even moving—his vision has begun to spasm, his focus going in and out. Lovino’s not-so-Lovino voice continues. _“What’s wrong with_ you _, Sadiq. What is wrong with an angel whose heritage is unholy? What happens to the creation of such disgrace to the pure line?”_

Sadiq’s legs begin to shake. This isn’t right.

His heart pounds in his ears, leaving them ringing. It beats against his ribs as if it were a panicked animal, desperate to escape this trapped situation; Sadiq is almost sure one of the bones will break. 

_“Well?”_

He has to get out—has to run…! But his feet, they’re planted on the floor. He’s stuck, unable to move.

_“They’re wiped from the face of Heaven.”_

Lovino jerks his shoulders, twisting Sadiq’s arm mercilessly. The larger angel bites out a scream, not having time to react before a sickening crack sounds from his arm. His vision, which has slowly been clearing, now blurs in agony, and his legs give out from under him. Lovino doesn’t let him meet the floor, holding Sadiq up by his now snapped appendage. Sadiq’s wings flap and beat against the wall in a frantic attempt to escape, but Lovino’s grip only tightens.

“What—What the hell, man?!” Sadiq wheezes, groaning. “Let go—stop…!”

Lovino’s mutated eyes only continue to bore into Sadiq. Maintaining his grasp on Sadiq with one hand, he brings up the other, forming a hot, glowing fist. Fingers teeming with the scorching heat of melted metal trace up to Sadiq’s frantic wing, clamping down upon it. Beneath Lovino’s hand Sadiq’s white feathers shrivel into ashes. Smoke forms from wound. 

Under Lovino, Sadiq releases another scream of agony, his eyes shut tight and cheeks pulled taut. His back arches in his attempts to writhe out of Lovino’s iron hold, and his knees kick out in a vain attempt to escape. His feet pound against Lovino’s shins, but the other boy remains sturdily planted in place, unfazed by Sadiq’s desperate movements. 

Mercilessly Lovino’s fingers tighten around the wing, nails digging into the flesh. Once the feathers around the area of his hand have all but disintegrated, Lovino pulls the wing back, straining the tendons under the skin and bone. It elicits another pained howl from Sadiq, although Lovino’s ears have grown deaf to the sounds of suffering. Instead they are replaced by the urging commands of the voice, which have now seemed to split into multiple, each with their own orders.

_Snap it off._

_Vanquish him._

_This is what you were meant to do._

_This is the sign of a true ruler._

The wicked words caress Lovino’s cheeks in dark encouragement, entrancing him in sickening pride. His grip grows ever tighter, his pulling grows ever stronger.

_That’s it. Good._

_Now come..._

_Come see…_

_See what a real Ruler accomplishes…_

The invisible hands around his face drift, luring Lovino to follow. Cajoled by the sickening tenderness, Lovino leans into the echoing calls. Seeing what a real Ruler could accomplish...yes. That’s what he wants...to see… Lovino needs only to trust the voice before him. Trust, and he would see. He would make everyone—Romulus—proud to have him on the throne. He wouldn’t let anyone down anymore. He would rise above expectations. 

And so, Lovino allows himself to be enveloped.

**********

Lovino isn’t sure how long he remains suspended, floating in the darkness. In such a place, time seems irrelevant, disappearing into the shadows that encase him. However, it eventually comes to an end, the emptiness becoming un-emptied. 

The ground solidifies under his feet; the weight of gravity returns; the musty smell fills his nostrils. Lovino is back in the shed, blinking rapidly against the light pouring in from the door. It’s so bright so fast. He is back so quickly, yet… when has he left? There’s an obvious gap of time that is filled with what, Lovino doesn’t know. An erased memory, distant yet present, like being pulled from a dream…

But this hasn’t been a dream. No, he had never been asleep. Lovino recollects: he had been helping with the festival...had offered to put away a box of supplies...gone to the shed...just about to leave when…

“M-My stars!” 

Lovino jolts, head whipping to the open shed door. There stands an angel—a normal face of a citizen of heaven, contorted in horror. 

Had Lovino missed something? Sheds usually aren’t places of fright. He checks around himself to be sure, his gaze scanning the walls and ceiling for any ominous omens he may have overlooked. He finds nothing. The angel is still shivering in the door in shock, mumbling fabric strings of unfinished words. Lovino doesn’t understand—he had simply gone in here to put something away, and Sadiq had come.

Lovino turns to find Sadiq—perhaps the latter would offer him an explanation. Sadiq isn’t where Lovino had left him. His search falls to the floor.

The exclamation is but a shallow exhale. “Oh…” There’s Sadid, in a pool of blood. He’s lying crumpled on the floor as if he were a discarded puppet, limbs tangled and limp. He lies face-up, a mess of black and red. Where his eyes should be is nothing but molten flesh, two empty abysses staring emptily into nothingness. Underneath the blood, Lovino sees his mouth, frozen mud-scream, stiff and voiceless. 

A sick feeling roils in Lovino’s stomach.

Frantic, he lifts his head to the door. Thankfully, the other angel hasn’t left, frozen in shocked fright. Lovino steps forward, his voice but a croak still first, dry tongue fumbling to choke the words out. “P-Please...help…” 

The whites of the other angel’s eyes only widen further, and he lets out a cry of terror. He throws up his hands in front of him, cowering. “Don’t move!”

Lovino furrows his brow, confused and dazed. Don’t move…? No, no, he needs to move—to get help. Sadiq is… Lovino lifts a desperate hand, begging, “No, please…” 

He trails off, his eyes leaving from the angel and falling onto his hand, which doesn’t—it doesn’t appear quite right. Speckles of red scatter along the back of his hand, growing larger and closer as they trace up his fingers, the tips stained crimson. As he sees it, he begins to feel it, all sticky and warm, covering more than merely his hand but his legs, torso, and face, too. Suddenly, it’s all over him, both fresh and drying, smelling of heated copper.

The air leaves his lungs. He can’t breathe.

It becomes unsettlingly quiet, the world around Lovino drowned out by the heavy _thump thump thumping_ of his pulse. His gaze still wavers over his hand like that of a shaky camera, and blackness begins to creep into the corners of his vision. What in Heaven had happened? How did Sadiq…? And Lovino…? Suddenly it feels too hot, too claustrophobic in the tiny shed. The old shelves along the walls protrude further and further, taking up all the breathable space; the dust weighs down the air, crawls into Lovino’s lungs, clogging his airway. Lovino tries to cough, but his chest only spasms, his body disobeying him. 

He can’t breathe.

He needs to breathe.

He needs to run.

_Run!_

The command jumps out of nowhere, startling him. He sucks in a breath of long-awaited air, and with that, everything falls back into motion. The angel at the door has pulled up a hologram, typing anxiously into it. 

He’s going to call someone. He’s going to report this. Lovino will be taken away.

_Run!_

The second time spurs Lovino into action, his legs propelling him forward. The other angel barely manages to lift his head, his mouth forming in a scream, before Lovino shoves past him, stumbling out into the streets. 

The sun hits his face, stopping him in his tracks. Where does he go? Where _can_ he go? Lovino frantically searches around, looking from one street to the next, trying to make out the words on the signs, to figure out where to go. Angels are all around still preparing for the celebration—they pay no mind to Lovino at first.

Then there’s a shocked gasp, followed by a scream. Something drops, crashing to the ground with a noise. An angel holds the side of her face in one hand, the other pointing straight at Lovino. In seconds, more attention is drawn, followed by cries of terror and confusion. Some yells for the guards. The previous peace of jubilation crashes to the ground.

Lovino’s knees tremble beneath him. He backs up, spinning quickly when another scream sounds from behind. He swivels to see a mother angel yank her child close to her. The child clutches his mother, terror reflecting Lovino’s own in his round eyes. Angels begin swarming, panicking and shoving each other out of their way. It’s getting crowded. The guards will come and find him soon. Then he’ll get taken away, arrested, worse. He needs to get out of there, now. He needs to—

Lovino takes off running. 

He doesn’t quite need to break through the swarm of angels as they end up parting around him, fearfully leaping back as Lovino pursues forward. The screams and shrieks continue to grow in volume as more see Lovino’s blood-covered figure. Soon enough, he hears the heavy footsteps of guards coming from a nearby street; they’re searching, unaware that the person they’re looking for is the one they were going to celebrate and honor. Arthur and Francis would likely be among them, leading the troops right to Lovino. How would he be able to look them in the eyes? He can already imagine their expressions: mouths gaping with no words to come out, eyes wide in disbelief as well as hurt.

_And betrayal_. 

It stings, but now all that Lovino can do is believe that is true. He skates around another corner, crashing into a vendor’s stand. Banners and celebrational toys fly through the air and fall to the ground, breaking and scattering themselves all over the cobblestone. Lovino can only hop over them, barely offering a passing glance to the angels around him. No, his eyes are trained on the ground. His mind is only focused on moving his legs faster and faster, as fast as they need to go to get him out of the area. Thankfully, that’s what they do.

Up ahead is the edge of town. The buildings thin, grow sparse until they stop. Then it’s merely fields until he reaches the North Sanctus Forest, a dense cluster of looming trees. The soldiers' shouts are nearer, clearer to make out as Lovino suddenly hears:

“Up ahead!

Lovino pushes himself to run harder. _Faster, faster, faster!_ His legs burn furiously, as if hot metal clamps surrounded his calves. But it’s just a little further. He can make it; he can still lose them and find a place to hide for a little while. At least until this all clears up. He hasn’t heard either Arthur nor Francis, so they still must not know it’s him. Maybe he’s running so fast that nobody will recognize him. That’s what Lovino hopes, at least. 

Finally, _finally!_ Lovino’s legs take him out of the village. By now his wings have unfurled from behind him, and he spreads them out wide. The guards would soon take to the air after him once they left the town as well. Lovino wouldn’t be able to out-fly them. Those angels have been specially trained; they would catch him in minutes. He needs to fly now, it’s the only way he might have a chance at escaping. So, with a mighty couple of flaps, Lovino speeds up and leaps from the ground. It’s a clumsy start with how frantic it is, and for a moment, Lovino almost comes back down, but before his toes can scrape the ground, he beats his wings against the air as hard as he can, straining every fiber within them. It burns, everything burns, but Lovino’s feet stay above the ground, and he continues to rise higher and higher. A wave of relief washes over him. He’s made it.

However, that relief is short-lived as a bullet of light whizzes past his ear.

They’re shooting at him now? 

Something hot nearly grazes his ankle.

Yep. They are definitely shooting at him. 

Lovino’s wings falter at the realization, and the world is suddenly tipping and tumbling. Air hits him in an icy-hotness, coloring his cheeks red. He fights to keep his eyes open, to keep his vision from blurring with tears. 

Faster and faster he falls, flailing and flapping. The soldiers aren’t deterred, of course. They continue their fire upon Lovino, thankfully missing him. At least they aren’t _trying_ to hit him, it seems—otherwise he would have been falling like a dead duck by this point.

However, even if there is no intent to kill, that won’t stop the Heavenly Guard from trying to apprehend Lovino in any way they can. The shots won’t be lethal, but they aren’t held back from incapacitating him. 

As if to prove such a point, Lovino suddenly feels a sharp, burning pain explode through his wing. He cries out, faltering in the air. He can’t tell exactly where, but a bullet has surely hit his left wing. A droplet splats onto his leg, warm and sticky. 

_Keep going,_ Lovino pushes himself, but his stomach churns at the heated pain encasing his wing. His altitude drops, the strain of staying high becoming too much, and his pace slows. He can’t keep this up; Arthur and his soldiers will catch up to him in no time. There must be a way to still manage an escape.

Something large and green catches Lovino’s eye. He risks taking his eyes off of the path ahead of him, snatching a glimpse of the ground below. Trees, thousands of them, towering through the low-hanging clouds, their green tips poking through the white. The North Sanctus Forest. He could hide there, use the dense forest as protection and coverage. The guards are still far enough behind him that he might be able to make it. 

Agony bursts in the back of his head. Lovino barely manages a scream, his vision swimming and blurring. Arthur must have hit him with a different type of magic projectile, not one to pierce the flesh but to render an appendage useless. Whether or not the angel had intended to hit Lovino’s cranium is unknown to him. He feels the world around him begin to disappear at a rapid pace, but if Lovino stops now, he’ll be caught. 

Up ahead is a massive white pillow—no, a cloud, a gigantic cloud with winds soaring around it. If he can reach it, Lovino can disappear, lose the guards, find safety. But it’s already such a struggle to even formulate such an idea—the sky is beginning to tip, blackness starting to creep in the corners of Lovino’s vision. 

He can’t hold out much longer.

So, with the strength he has left, using the pain as one last push, Lovino thrusts his wings and soars forward. Hundreds of tiny, cool water droplets wet his cheeks. His wound stings at the contact, but Lovino hardly notices. His wings fall limp, and he is left to stall momentarily in the air before gradually falling. Lovino blinks heavily, snatching a fuzzy glimpse of the forest. He isn’t sure if it will work—perhaps Arthur will still find him and take him in, and this whole effort will have been fruitless—but Lovino angles himself the best he can to land in the trees. 

Then he plunges down down down into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tensioooon...! I hope I've still got you all captivated, because the real fun begins now, nyehehe... 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this next chapter!  
> Please please please leave any comments that might pop up in your mind, even if it's just "!!!" or something, haha. I love hearing your responses, and I would love to interact with you more! 
> 
> ALso! Y'all can message/find me on tumblr (I basically live there, hah) at both my main blog and art blog!  
> Main: sculpted-mirth  
> Art: doodlesinthemargins
> 
> I would absolutely love to interact with you all more!
> 
> Ah! I'll stop rambling... Thanks for reading, guys, truly.  
> Until next time!  
> \--V


	3. The Darkness Emerges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! *Wheeze* An update! At last!  
> Yepppp chapters are probably going to be coming a little slower now. I appreciate your patience!! Writing is hard, heh. But! We've got one now, and I'll be starting the next one, soon!  
> Thank you all for stopping by to read!  
> Hope you enjoy!

When he wakes, he is certain that he has broken all of his bones. There’s no question about it; falling from such a height could only leave his body in one condition: crumbled. Lovino doesn’t dare move his arms—he probably can’t anyway. Soon enough could come the pain, making even the mere action of breathing unbearable. It’s surprising that the agony hasn’t swept over him already.

In fact, it’s puzzling; he doesn’t feel hardly any pain at all, save for the general, dull soreness of lying on the stiff ground for a while. Perhaps it would come when he attempted to move, currently waiting quietly in his stillness for the opportunity to cause an explosion of fiery pulses throughout his muscles. As reluctant as he is to do so, Lovino tests that theory by wriggling two of his fingers and his thumb.

Nothing.

Might be a trick. So, he expands movement to all his fingers, closing them together in a fist.

Still nothing.

But how? 

With his muscles tensing as if waiting for a forceful impact, Lovino flings his upper body forward, throwing himself into a sitting position. He freezes, half-cringing as he expects the wave of pain to envelop his being. 

Nothing.

Tentatively, Lovino glances back, stretching out his wing. Where the bulletin of light had gone through is crusted blood over disheveled feathers. Albeit missing a few feathers, the skin is unbroken. There’s no injury. Almost frantically, Lovino brings a hand up to the back of his head, pressing lightly. He’s only met with a dull tenderness but nothing more.

He’s fine. His injuries are gone, as if they were never even there. Someone—or something—had healed him. It’s the only explanation, as unsettling as it is.

But who?

Lovino slowly brings his hand back, staring down at his bloodstained palm. He had almost forgotten the mess of dried crimson staining his arms and front. Some of it has dried and flecked away, although that would only be for his skin; this blood would stain his soul until the end of his life.

_ Arthur and his soldiers _ .

Eyes widening in sudden panic, Lovino snaps his head up, whirling around expecting to see the Heavenly Guard surrounding him. Instead there are just trees. Trees for miles and miles and miles, reaching so high that Lovino isn’t sure if he can spot the tops or not. It’s dark in the forest. The many long, twisted branches block the majority of the sun’s light from reaching the forest floor, so along with the darkness is a chillingly cool air. It’s quiet, too; there are no birds that sing in the North Sanctus Forest, no deer that frolic, no rabbits or foxes that gaily prance and play. Instead, silence, aside from the breathing of the trees. And in that silence, Lovino is completely alone.

And being alone leaves the perfect opportunity for memories to come flooding back, so flooding back they come, swarming Lovino’s mind. Everything: training, setting up for the coronation—Sadiq. 

He had killed Sadiq. Lovino’s stomach turns, the incident playing itself before his very eyes it seems. Sadiq walking into the shed, blocking the door, his rough shove, the furious glare; he also remembers himself, his own anger, his own growl and sneer, and of course, what had come next. Lovino looks down again at his blood-covered hands. Covered in blood that isn’t his. Lovino rolls over and vomits. 

Eventually he’s left with his chest caving in from the mixture of dry heaves and sobs. Sadiq didn’t deserve that. Sure, he had been a jerk, a bully, and most likely would always rub Lovino wrong, but he was also just a kid—even bullies don’t deserve murder. Murder. The word would mark Lovino as the blood on his hands already does. It’s unthinkable, impossible. Monstrous. 

Staggering to his feet, Lovino searches desperately across his surroundings. At first his vision is blurry through his tears, but he doesn’t dare wipe them away, refusing to bring his murderous hands near his eyes. He walks, blinking rapidly to clear his sight. Not far from where he had woken up is a pond, clear and still. Lovino’s timid trudge transforms into a full on sprint, and he nearly skids to the edge of the pond, plunging both palms into the water and scrubbing like a madman. It’s at this point that he’s grateful for the shadows, as they conceal the gradual murk seeping into the water. Once his hands are clean, he moves to his wrists, then to his upper arm where the blood had speckled itself on him, even on his neck and face. In no time Lovino has practically waded into the water, scrubbing at his clothes. They aren’t as easy to clean as his skin, left with a muddied red stain on the white, silk fabric. 

It won’t wash off, and Lovino begins to cry again, crying out of panic, fear, and remorse.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles to no one. He chokes on a sob. “I’m so sorry… I never meant—I never wanted to kill him. I can’t believe I…” He crumbles, sinking down to his knees in the water and burying his face into his newly washed palms. Despite the blood being mostly scrubbed away, he doesn’t feel the slightest bit cleaner. He stays there, alone in his grief. 

Until a voice speaks from the air:

“Well, would you look at that,”

Lovino’s head snaps up.

“Gee, it’s such a shame…”

“Who are you?” Lovino demands. 

“To see you so pathetic.”

“Show yourself,” Standing now, Lovino scans the forest around the pond, studying every shadow for the invisible intruder. There’s no one there. But there must be; Lovino can feel them, their presence. Their voice whispers between the branches, starting in front of Lovino and wrapping around behind him. His neck hairs raise, goosebumps tingling the surface of his skin, as if there were someone right behind him, breathing.

“Hello, Golden Eyes.”

Lovino whirls around so fast the pond is nothing but a blur. He comes face to face with a shark tooth grin of danger belonging to an ashen, pointed face and poisonous green eyes. Lovino can’t believe his eyes: it’s a demon. A demon, here. In North Sanctus Forest. In  _ Heaven _ . But how? The two realms were sealed from one another by the Great Gate established by a being more powerful than any angel or demon. It’s impossible for one creature to sneak into the other’s world. But, apparently, that’s what had happened.

“Who are you?” Lovino stammers as he steps back out of the water. He keeps his wary eyes on the creature before him, almost afraid to blink. “And how do you know me?”

The demon raises a pointed eyebrow as if he can’t believe Lovino would ask such a silly question. Then he laughs, a smooth chuckle. “My goodness. You know, despite how humble you angels claim to be, you really do boast your figureheads. ‘The mighty Ruler Romulus!’ here, ‘The dazzling twin princes!’ there. Oh, Lovino, you’re not only famous in Heaven.”

The demon now rises from the water himself. Two tall, bat-like wings sprout from behind his back and take him into the air. Although he had met Lovin in the pond, he doesn’t appear to be wet like the angel is; not a droplet falls from his silky black slacks or dapper jacket. As he floats down, the demon stretches his toes in front of him as if walking down stairs, and once he reaches the bottom, he gestures as if reaching for an invisible hat that would rest atop of his mop of chocolate, curly hair and twirls his hand down into a bow. Lovino can get a better view of the puce colored horns curling out of the sides of the demon’s head like a ram’s. Their tips glint sharply. 

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the demon says with a charming smile. “Antonio Carriedo Fernandez at your service.”

Lovino furrows his brow and frowns. He’s never met this demon, Antonio, before; he’s never even interacted with one, not alone, at least. But something about this demon rings familiarity. He can’t quite pinpoint what, but it tugs at the back of Lovino’s mind, providing blurry, blank images that he can’t glean anything from.

“I must say, it is a pleasure to meet Heaven’s heir in person. I never thought I would get the opportunity,” Antonio continues, nonchalantly tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. “Too bad the prince so happens to be a murderer.”

The label hits like a punch, and Lovino doesn’t like it. Of course he doesn’t like it—who would? Has this demon come looking for him because of this incident? And what would that mean? Is Lovino standing seconds away from being torn to shreds, left in pieces on the ground? 

“How did you get here?” he asks.

Antononio merely shrugs. “I have my ways. And by that, I mean that I don’t think it’s any of your concern.”

Lovino’s head swirls, thoughts and questions and worries passing by like an uncontrollable carousel. A demon has somehow made it into Heaven. It knows him. Somehow, it knows about his crime as well. What that means for him, Lovino isn’t sure, but it can’t be good. No, it can’t be good at all. His heart begins to race, trying to catch up, his lungs constricting.

Amidst his panic, Lovino finds a memory; not a specific instance, but past moments floating past his mind’s eye, whispers of warnings echoing in his ears. His grandfather’s face, missions with him that Lovino had attended during his lessons, a stern tone with wise words. Something about demons, Lovino finally clicks, and the rest comes to him in a memory of Romulus talking to him outside in the courtyard. What was it that he said…?

Demons can manipulate anything that they can read, being able to twist words and their meanings like clay pottery.

And, they always come with a mission.

That breaks Lovino from his stupor, and the angel finds the strength to harden his gaze at the creature before him. 

“What do you want?” he demands with a bit more confidence than before.

Antonio’s face lifts in amusement, his mouth quirking upwards in a smirk. “Right to the point, aren’t you?” 

Antonio begins to step forward. Lovino blinks. When he opens his eyes a second later, the demon is gone. Lovino freezes, frightened, as he feels a presence close behind him, Antonio looming menacingly over his shoulder. His legs threaten to bolt, but Lovino doesn’t dare move. Antonio hisses into his ear, venom dripping from his voice. 

“I’ve been watching you, Lovino.”

Lovino stares hard at the ground, the short boost of courage from early gone, vanished, running out the door. His chest barely moves to let him breathe, and beneath him, his legs quiver like leaves in the wind. The thought of Antonio watching him somehow, not knowing how much he has seen, how he had even snuck in, why he still seems so familiar to Lovino even though he has never seen the demon before. Sweat beads at his temples, and his palms grow clammy, but, surprisingly, he feels ice cold.

Antonio’s mouth stretches into his snake-like grin as he feeds off Lovino’s fear, but he doesn’t go in for the strike just yet. Instead he stays poised like a statue over Lovino, as if waiting for the boy to drop down dead so he could devour him. Then, rather abruptly, he pulls back, returning to that nonchalant character Lovino had seen moments ago. 

“I’ve been watching you for a while now,” he says, circling Lovino closely like a prey. “Seeing all your ups and downs, all your accomplishments and failures. And I’ve seen now, Lovino, that you’ve gotten yourself in a… sticky situation.” Antonio comes to a stop in front of Lovino. “What do I want? Well, I’ve come to offer you a bargain.”

“Never take a demon’s deal,” Lovino mutters the words as his grandfather does in his mind. A simple warning, yet one from centuries before. And it still holds true to the present; nothing could be more dangerous in the celestial realms than a demon’s deal. 

“Unless you want to sell your soul,” Antonio finishes in a mocking tone, as if completing a nursery rhyme. “Those are such old words, Lovino. Times do change. I figured you of all angels should know that fact. You know, with you taking over the throne and all. Or well, you  _ were _ .” He shakes his head with an exaggerated shrug. “Tsk, tsk, you really went for it with Sadiq, didn’t you? Poor kid. Merciless. Whatever point you were trying to get across, you certainly proved it.”

Lovino freezes, rigid.

Sadiq.

Proved it.

_ Prove it. _

“You...that was you.”

Antonio lifts his toxic, sly gaze up to Lovino. The corners of his mouth creep upwards into a grin. “Yes, Lovino?”

It all clicks, the familiarity about Antonio, how he knows about—about everything! About him, the ceremony, Sadiq: he had been there. All along, inside Lovino’s head. “You were the voice.”

Antonio’s grin widens, almost uncomfortably far. “Ding ding ding! He gets one right.” 

“You were in my head. You were manipulating me,” Lovino accuses. “You said all these things like ‘prove it’ or whatever, and then…” his voice shakes. A wisp of dark smoke flashes before his eyes. “you were the monster that killed Sadiq!”

Antonio holds up a hand and shakes his head. “Now, now, not so fast,” he says. “You’re mixing up information, boy. I did not touch the dead angel.”

“You got inside my head,” retorts Lovino angrily. “You messed with my mind, got into my thoughts. You distorted everything around me—the shed, Sadiq—everything. You were the smoke.”

Antonio laughs his smooth laugh, almost in a pitying sort of way. A way that made Lovino feel rather small compared to the demon. “Oh, Lovino, that wasn’t me,” he says, and to Lovino’s own horror, he continues. “That smoke was  _ you _ .”

Lovino gapes as if to reply, although no words come out. His lungs contract as if the air has been simply plucked out of them.

“As I said, Lovino, I’ve been watching you,” says Antonio, continuing his prowl. “I’ve seen your day-to-day life and all your disgusting little interactions with your fake angels. Honestly, you believe you are such holy and righteous creatures?” He scoffs. “You’re all full of disdain and judgment with every look. In some ways, you’re no better than us demons.”

While still unable to speak, Lovino’s upper lip twitches, that last comment working its way under his skin. How dare this demon compare angels to his own kind. A being of light could never be similar to such a creature of darkness.

Antonio, noticing the boiling of Lovino’s blood, merely nods his head with a smile. “See? I can see the disgust already. Let me guess—you can’t bear the thought of comparing angels to demons. You’re all too perfect, too nice, to be mirrored with someone like me, hm? And they say pride is the most dangerous sin.” Antonio stares Lovino down, pinning him where he stands. The temperature around them has dropped to a slight chill, not enough to react, but enough to notice. Then, as if dismissing it all, Antonio waves a hand.

“As I observed your training, I noticed something. Within you, Lovino. I saw that you have a great potential of power.”

“Power?” Lovino asks. 

“Yes, power. All angels are capable of some magics, some developing more abilities than others. Angels like you, Lovino, ones meant to be Rulers, are often more powerful than average. That’s just normal. Romulus, your brother, they’re all more powerful than other basic angels, even those like Arthur Kirkland or Francis Bonnefoy. But you, Lovino, you’re quite the special case.”

Lovino shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

Antonio’s unsettling grin has returned. “Inside you, there is more magical capability than in any other angel. You harness unbelievable power! Perhaps even surpassable to Romulus.” 

Power that could surpass Romulus? That’s certainly a lot, Lovino knows. And all of it is inside of...him?

“I felt it through your energy since the beginning,” Antonio goes on. “I saw it as you trained, and in the end, you saw some of it as well.”

Lovino had indeed, and he hadn’t enjoyed the experience. 

Looking down, Lovino says quietly, “It’s dangerous,” 

“It’s not controlled,” Antonio corrects him. “You’ve had this strength building up inside you for years, this unbridled strength, but you never learned how to control it. Your grandfather never taught you, never even let you know. Why is that? Because he was scared.”

Lovino lifts his head, confused. “Scared?”

Antonio nods along. “Who wouldn’t be? To have a grandson with power of such magnitude is terrifying. There are only two things one can do: either control or, or run away. Your courageous grandfather chose the latter, to run away.”

“I don’t understand…” murmurs Lovino again, lost. Romulus had known? Yet...why wouldn’t he tell Lovino about this? Why would he run…? “What about Feliciano?”

“What about him?” Antonio raises an eyebrow. “Does he know? Of course he does. So do Arthur and Francis. The only one who doesn’t know is you, and those other angels kept that secret for a reason. They didn’t want you to become the monster you could have turned into.” Catching Lovino’s horrified expression, he huffs. “So much for that.”

Lovino looks down at his trembling hands, turning them over as if seeing them for the first time. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“If you remain as you are? Then today won’t be the only murder committed. More angels will die.”

“How do I stop it?”

“You can’t.”

Antonio locks his gaze with Lovino’s. “Not on your own at least.”

“What do you mean?” Lovino asks.

“You can’t solve this on your own, Lovino. Not even your old man can fix this. With this power running rampant within your blood, it’ll overtake you. You’ll cause more harm to others, cost innocent lives like Sadiq. You’ve already got blood on your hands, and the more you taint them, the harder it will be to wash them clean, until it’s impossible to recognize your own skin. With that magic of yours out of control, you’ll be more dangerous than any demon.”

Lovino’s legs grow weak as he stares up at Antonio; the demon now looks over him, a dark shadow blocking any skylight. It’s impossible, Lovino becoming as much of a threat as one of those hellish creatures. He had thought it was, at least. However, he’s less and less sure now. Maybe he would turn into a monster. He would hurt other angels, maybe ones close to him like Feliciano or Arthur or Francis. He can picture them now, blood-covered and broken, eyes glassy and dull. And it would be all his fault.

“What do I do?” he whispers.

“I can help you, Lovino,” Antonio hisses with a devilish grin. “Trust me. I can subdue your power. I can cleanse your dirtied soul.”

“You’re a demon,” Lovino says. “I can’t—never make a deal.”

Antonio’s face changes for a brief second, shadows darkening his face. His lip curls in a furious snarl but relaxes quickly afterwards. “So you’d rather stay like this? Doomed to be lost in darkness?” he scoffs, disgusted, “You’re so self-righteous that you would rather live as the wicked monster that you are? Instead of fixing your problem, you’re fine with taking thousands of lives? How can you call yourself an angel with such a pathetic moral.” 

With that Antonio swiftly turns away, leaving Lovino pale and shaking where he stands. “I should have known better than to offer my last bit of grace.” He mutters.

Lovino stands rigid, his legs quivering beneath him. His eyes stare hard at the ground, wide and fearful. It’s over now. He’s simply going to stay here and slowly become consumed by his own power. All because he refuses to… Maybe Antonio’s right; maybe he is refusing to change because of stubborn, old legends. Maybe…

He steps forward. “Wait.”

A few feet ahead of him, Antonio comes to a stop at the edge of some trees. He doesn’t turn around, remaining where he is, listening.

Lovino swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as a desert. “I need to control this. I can’t put anyone else in danger, I…” he lets out an unsteady breath. “I need your help.”

At that, Antonio slowly turns around with a wide grin that leaves Lovino regretting the words that had come from his mouth seconds ago, but he doesn’t take them back. In the blink of an eye, Antonio his back in front of him, hand extended. Swirling around his finger is the familiar, wispy black smoke. “Glad to see that you’ve come to your senses.”

Lovino bites his lip. “What will you do to me?”

“Exactly what you want,” Antonio says. “I’m going tonight equip your being for this power. I’ll make you capable of controlling it.”

A short moment of sense comes back to Lovino, and he stares, unsure, at Antonio’s hand. “What do you get out of this?”

Antonio smirks. “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. I just want to experience your abilities.” His eyes flick down to his hand, then back to Lovino. “The clock is ticking.”

Lovino stares down at the offered hand, his own lifted and hovering. Would this work? Is making this deal the truly right choice. He can picture many familiar heads shaking in disagreement, but… 

Rather they be disappointed than dead, right?

Lovino plunges his hand down and grips Antonio’s palm in a firm shake.

He doesn’t get a moment to breathe. The smoke curling throw Antonio’s fingers explodes like a geyser, shooting up into the air in a thick stream of black. Then it plunges into Lovino’s wrist. 

Lovino screams, looks up for Antonio, but the demon is gone. No, not  _ gone _ gone, but out of sight. He isn’t truly gone, because Lovino can feel him, can feel him inside himself, within the smoke. 

The trees begin to melt away one by one, the darkness of the forest replaced by white nothingness. The smoke enters him completely with enough force to throw him to his knees, but he doesn’t fall. Lovino pulls back the hand that had previously shook Antonio’s, but it doesn’t come to him. Something else has grabbed it instead. 

Lovino looks up. Before him where Antonio had been standing is a beast. A beast made entirely of black smoke from its hooved feet to the spiraling horns on the top of its head. Every inch of it is black aside from two soulless, red eyes.

Lovino shrieks, yanking his arm in a desperate attempt to escape. He’s got to get out of here. He’s got to get home, get home and tell Romulus everything, beg for forgiveness if he must, but he needs to get out of here! Writhing, he twists and turns, beating the arm of the beast in panic. Another massive paw reaches out, smothers Lovino’s face, and drags him back, and Lovino is once again pulled into darkness.

**********

The world is a crystal sphere, clear like a glass glove. The surface is smooth without blemish, clean, unbroken. There are a couple scars on the outside, but it continues to float, whole.

It’s quiet. Empty. Full of air.

He breathes in that quiet air, tasting it’s freshness on his tongue. Standing at the bottom of the sphere, he runs his hands along its walls.

Smooth. 

Without blemish.

Everything as it should be.

He paces. There’s not much room and no place to go, but he doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to the seemingly monotonous routine.

In fact, he’s quite fond of it.

There is something inwardly calming about the constant atmosphere, even if it is constant in nothing. He prefers the nothing, if he’s honest.

None of that overwhelming clamor or painfully bright color. Nothing moving so fast that he might miss something and become frightened. None of the faces in his face asking his face questions of how he is doing or where he is going. No sideways glances as shadows that aren’t there.

No. He creates his own pace here. 

In his sphere of protection, he can breathe without fear constructing his lungs, walk without shaking. His body holds a lightness compared to its daily weight.

Peaceful. 

Kind of like floating underwater at the bottom of a pool.

That’s when he notices the crack. 

The crack which starts near the top where the sphere begins to curve overhead. The crack which appears small at first but then creeps along the once flawless surface of his safe space, spiderwebbing outwards like claws reaching.

He freezes, his insides growing cold as if a pound of ice were dropped into his belly. He silently begs the wall to hold, to repair itself. Perhaps this is all in his head—his head makes up many strange things all the time. His safe place is still safe, it’s merely his imagination. Please, for the love of  _ heaven _ let it only be in his head.

The wall chips, breaks, and in comes the black.

It starts in a slow but heavy stream, clinging to the wall it runs down like sticky molasses. 

He panics. It’s not possible. He can’t let them in. He needs to stop the flow. Patch the break. Keep them out.

But he can’t move; his feet are cemented to the ground. The black keeps pouring itself in.

By now there’s a puddle growing at his feet, much faster than a normal puddle should be. He spreads, soon lapping at his shoes and covering them. He can’t see his feet below its surface. It’s not warm or cold but dense. 

His eyes dash back up to the crack to see that it has grown. The black flows form an elongated laceration along the surface of the sphere. It’s no longer a steady stream but a pumping waterfall. 

He looks back down: the black is up to his waist. He can’t afford to take his eyes off it for a second. 

It’s not that his feet become unstuck to the bottom. Frantically he sloshes over to the opposite wall, pressing against it. He beats his fists against its glass-like surface, but they only reverb back to him. He yells, but his voice comes muffled. 

The black creeps up his chest. 

He pounds harder, harder and harder that he’s sure bruises will form on his knuckles. The flood is rising faster. His foot slips on the slick bottom, and he falls under. An attempt to shout again is overtaken by a mouthful of liquid. 

It’s impossible—he’s been breached. Not just he, but everywhere. The shield, broken. 

Reached.

Overtaken in black. 

He needs to warn them. But how? They won’t listen, won’t understand.

But it’s broken, broken and reached. 

Deep under the surface of black, he cannot breathe.

They’re coming.

He claws weakly, trying to find the surface, but there are no walls around.

They’re coming.

Or, worse.

They’re  _ here. _

In the dark, Matthew Williams jolts up in his bed and screams.

**********

By now his legs ache, old knees protesting with every step, but Romulus still continues to pace around the room. It’s been hours, but it feels like a century has passed, and Romulus has lived through a couple of those. Like a worried dog, he trudged around the open room, going over every bit of information he has received again and again as if hoping to glean something new from the same old words. He brings up the reports in a holographic form, scrolling through the words. Even now, they have not changed.

It’s getting later, the golden sun setting over the Holy Mountains, casting a beautiful glow across the land. It would be getting dark soon after. Searching would become difficult.

Near the center of the room sits a worried Feliciano. The usually talkative angel has hardly said a word, keeping his questions to himself. Then again, why voice the questions everyone is searching for answers to but no one has? 

There are a lot of those questions, and Romulus feels plagued with them no different than everyone else. 

The coronation is in shambles. The town: scared; angels have long since abandoned their places on the streets and now hide in their homes. The Saints have been notified, a trial is in place, they’re only waiting for the accused. And once he’s found…

Romulus feels Feliciano’s soft hand on his arm. He hadn’t heard the boy come up beside him. Romulus turns to his grandson, both of them mirroring each other’s worried expression. 

“Why don’t you rest a bit?” He urges Feliciano once again, although it’s doubtful his words will hold any impact. Feliciano has refused to leave. 

And, as expected, the boy shakes his head.

“I can’t leave you here,” Feliciano says. “You’ll pace a hole into the floor if I do.”

“And that would be one more thing to deal with, hm?” Romulus tries to muster a weak smile with his lame attempt at lightening the mood, but it feels more like a grimace. No doubt he likely appears to have aged a hundred years—he certainly feels it. 

Feliciano sees the gesture and isn’t sure how to respond judging by the uncertain look that overtakes his face. There isn’t much time for him to formulate a response before a loud knock comes from behind the double doors.

Romulus directs his attention to the entrance. “Come in.” 

One of the heavy doors opens slowly, and in steps a messenger angel. “My apologies for the interruption, my Lord, but you have a guest concerning the trial.”

“No need to apologize,” Romulus replies with a kind wage of dismissal. “Who comes about the trial?”

“Erdinç Adnan, my Lord.”

Romulus straightens, a pit of uneasiness growing in his stomach. Erdinç Adnan. The father of the dead angel boy, Sadiq Adnan. 

Clearing his throat, he nods at the messenger. “Send him in.”

The messenger nods, steps out, and returns a moment later with another angel behind him. 

Erdinç Adnan has the build of a soldier—that anyone can see. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are full of muscle. Even his white wings are sturdy and powerful. However, he also appears smaller than one might expect, shrunken, as if the years of fighting now are only represented in a shadow of the man. That shadow is visible in the smaller details when one looks past the build: the hollow of his cheeks, the circles under his eyes, the slight hunch in his spine that has erased his previous posture as a soldier. Then again everyone left the war standing tall.

Romulus steps forward as Erdinç enters, moving to meet him. He dismisses the other angel, leaving only himself, Erdinç, and Feliciano in the room. Erdinç keeps his gaze level with Romulus, although his focus seems lower, not direct. Of course, he is going through something unimaginable.

So Romulus starts softly. “Have you thought about my offer for the trial?” he asks.

Erdinç’s eyes fall down more, and a crevice twitches in his brow. He doesn’t reply right away, so Romulus waits patiently until the angel speaks.

“I received your offer,” says Erdinç, his words slow, somewhat detached. “However, I have concerns.”

“What concerns do you have? If there’s any way I can help—”

Erdinç scoffs. “My son is dead,” he says gruffly. “There are limits on what even you can do.”

Romulus nods tiredly. “I understand. What can I answer for you, Erdinç?”

“I have concerns,” repeats Erdinç, “about this coming up. More directly, about you heading it.”

The statement takes Romulus by surprise. If he’s honest, he wasn’t expecting anything near that. Though, he supposes, it makes sense in a way, especially to someone in Erdinç’s position. 

Erdinç takes his silence as a means to continue. “I believe you are a just Ruler, my Lord, and I don’t speak to challenge that. But, when it comes to personal matters, partiality is bound to exist.”

“I understand, and I completely agree,” Romulus says. “That concern has already been taken into consideration. Although I may sit in the center chair, I don’t head the trial completely alone; I have with me the ten Saint angels to guide my decision and offer perspectives I may overlook.”

Erdinç listens to Romulus’s explanation with hard, focused eyes. As Romulus finishes, he lets out a quiet breath. “I am aware of the structure of the court, my Lord. I only want to ensure a fair trial on my son’s behalf, especially as in the past there have been unprecedented conclusions that, in the end…”

“I understand the uncertainties that you have, Erdinç, but you needn’t be afraid from past events. We look at every case with present eyes.”

“I am sure,” Erdinç nods. “Although, I am curious as to why this trial is necessary.”

To Romulus’s startled reaction, Erdinç continues. “The prince has committed a drastic, irredeemable sin. As following previous cases, for instance, the _Williams_ _Trial_ , we know that the punishment for the murder of another angel is—”

“You’re going to banish Lovino?” A new voice speaks up— Feliciano’s. From where he stands, still not close enough to be involved, but enough to where he can hear, he watches Erdinç and Romulus, his hazel eyes round with worry. “You can’t do that!”

Romulus sighs. He had forgotten his other grandson was there; he should have gotten Feliciano to leave before Erdinç’s arrival. “Feliciano…”

“You can’t just banish him without a trial,” Feliciano insists. “Not without hearing his side.”

Erdinç’s brow lowers, more creases forming on his forehead. “His side? What, hear his thoughts on how he wanted to kill my son? Is that what you want to hear?”

“You don’t know that,” Feliciano says, now walking forward to join Romulus’s side. “The Lovino I know would never kill, no matter how much he hated your bully of a son.”

“Feliciano, please,” Romulus tries.

“You’re isn’t defending him,” Erdinç sneers. “You brother of a monster. I bet you’re a murderer in waiting.” Now red creeps into Erdinç’s cheeks and neck, rage poking into his eyes. “Your good for nothing Prince took away my son…! He killed him! Right in the doorway, he killed him! Who are you going to kill next, huh? That was my son! My  _ son! _ ”

“Silence!” Romulus roars over Erdinç’s shrieks and Feliciano’s cowering. He sends a warning scowl to Feliciano, then a stern look to Erdinç. Before he can say a word, though, the doors suddenly burst open.

In flies the messenger angel, breathless. 

“My Lord,” he pants. “The young Prince. He’s been located in the North Sanctus Forest.” 

Romulus’s breath leaves him then. He catches Erdinç’s bewildered expression, then turns to lock eyes with Feliciano. The other wears the same shock on his face. Lovino had been found.

They need to get going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He has been found... Hah, another chapter down! I hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys think in the comments!
> 
> Until next time!  
> \-- V
> 
> Tumblr: @Sculpted-Mirth, @doodlesinthemargins

**Author's Note:**

> And, hah, there you go! It’s so weird splitting this thing up into chapters... I was tempted to post the entire 30 pages :P
> 
> I started this in the summer, so hopefully you can see improvement in the writing—I know I can, hah. I can’t wait to hear your feedback and responses—please leave them! 
> 
> I’ll be back next week with Chapter 2!  
> Until then! :)  
> — V


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